


Redux, Arc 1 - Into the Wild

by Dullard



Series: Warriors Redux [1]
Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Canon Rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-03-30 18:05:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 39
Words: 45,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13957089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dullard/pseuds/Dullard
Summary: Part one of a revision of the Warriors universe. More can be found at http://warriorsredux.tumblr.com/.





	1. Allegiances

_Some names, designs and roles have been changed to better fit within the universe of the Redux. Cats who have had their names changed will have their old names posted after their description._

 

**THUNDERCLAN**

 

 **LEADER-**   _Bluestar:_  Tall blue-grey molly with a scar on her back and yellow eyes. 

 **DEPUTY-**   _Redtail:_  Dark ginger tom with white feet and green eyes.

 **SEER-** _Spottedleaf:_  Beautiful dappled tortoiseshell molly with white markings and amber eyes.

 

**WARRIORS**

_Lionpelt:_  Huge golden tabby with thick fur around his neck, white chest markings, and golden eyes.  _(p: Lionheart)_

 _Tigerclaw:_ Big dark brown tabby tom with amber eyes.

 _Whitecloud:_  Long-bodied white tom with yellow eyes.  _(p: Whitestorm)_

 _Darkstripe:_  Sleek black-and-grey tabby tom with yellow eyes.

 _Lizardtail:_  Light brown, darkly-striped tabby tom with a long tail and green eyes.  _(p: Longtail)_

 _Teaselfoot:_  Lean brown tabby tom with a pale belly and green eyes.  _(p: Runningwind)_

 _Mousefur:_  Small brown molly with a lighter underside and orange eyes.

 _Goldenflower:_ Golden-brown molly with a white chest and belly, and golden eyes.

 _Speckletail:_  Brown tortoiseshell molly with yellow eyes.

 _Brindleface:_  Beautiful dilute tortoiseshell with green eyes.

 _Frostfur:_  White molly with deep green eyes.

 

**APPRENTICES**

_Firepaw:_  Small ginger tom with green eyes.  **Mentor- Bluestar**

 _Greypaw:_  Grey tabby tom with thick stripes and yellow eyes.  **Mentor- Lionpelt**

 _Ravenpaw:_  Wiry black tom with a white spot on his chest, a white tail-tip, and green eyes.  **Mentor- Whitecloud**

 _Dustpaw:_  Brown tabby tom with brown eyes.  **Mentor- Redtail**

 _Sandpaw:_  Pale ginger molly with green eyes.   **Mentor- Tigerclaw**

 

**QUEENS**

_Willowpelt:_  Pale grey molly with deep green eyes.

 

**KITS**

_Cinderkit:_  Dark grey molly with a paler underside.   
_Swiftkit:_  Black tom with a white chest and front paws.

 

**ELDERS**

_Halftail:_  Big, tattered brown tabby tom with half his tail missing and yellow eyes.

 _Smallstorm:_  Small grey tabby tom with a heavily-scarred right ear and orange eyes.  _(p: Smallear)_

 _Patchpelt:_  Bulky black tom with large white patches and amber eyes.

 _One-eye:_  Lanky light grey tabby molly with one orange eye.

 

 

 

 

**SHADOWCLAN**

 

 **LEADER-** _Brokenstar:_  Dark brown tabby tom with a kinked tail and orange eyes.

 **DEPUTY-**   _Blackfoot:_  Black tom with white feet and yellow eyes.

 **SEER-**   _Murkpelt:_  Ragged dark grey molly with a broad, flattened face and orange eyes.  _(p: Yellowfang)_

 _Fogcloud:_  Patchy grey-and-white tom with pale green eyes.  _(p: Runningnose)_

**WARRIORS**

_Bouldernose:_  Large, plain grey tom with green eyes. (p: Boulder)

 _Cinderfur:_  A dark grey tabby tom with yellow eyes.

 _Clawedface:_  Plain dark brown tom with a viciously scarred face and yellow eyes. (p: Clawface)

 _Littlethroat:_  Tiny brown tabby tom with a pale underside and green eyes. (p: Littlecloud) 

 _Dipperfoot:_  Black tom with a white throat-stripe and paws and yellow eyes. (p: Whitethroat)

 _Batwhisker:_  Dark brown tom with a short tail and green eyes. (p: Stumpytail)

 _Dusktail:_  A dark blue-grey tom with yellow eyes. (p: Frogtail) 

 _Wigeonfur:_  Dilute tortoiseshell with green eyes. (p: Tangleburr) 

 _Brightflower:_  Ginger molly with a short nose and yellow eyes.

 

**APPRENTICES**

_Oakpaw:_  Dark brown tabby tom with green eyes.  **Mentor- Wigeonfur**

 _Brownpaw:_  Brown tabby tom with green eyes.  **Mentor- Batwhisker**

 _Rainpaw:_  Dark grey tom with spotted tabby markings and yellow eyes.  **Mentor- Bouldernose** _(p: Wetpaw)_

**QUEENS**

_Dawncloud:_  Small, pale ginger molly with green eyes.

 _Darkflower:_  Black molly with incredibly pale green eyes.

 _Poppytail:_  Dark red tabby molly with yellow-green eyes. (p: Tallpoppy)

 

**KITS**

_Goldenkit:_  Tiny golden tom with green eyes.  **Mother- Dawncloud**

 _Stoatkit:_  Dark red-brown mottled tabby tom.  **Mother- Poppytail** _(p: Applekit)_  
_Toadkit:_  Dark brown tabby molly.  **Mother- Poppytail**

**ELDERS**

_Ashfur:_  Long-bodied, mottled grey tabby tom with yellow eyes.

 _Nightpelt:_  A frail black tom with a long tail and golden eyes.

 _Palecloud:_  Light grey molly with white toes and green eyes.  _(p: Poolcloud)_

 

 

 

 

** WINDCLAN **

 

 **LEADER-**   _Rookstar:_  Tall, aging black tom with a white chin, throat, chest and feet and yellow eyes.  _(p: Tallstar)_

 **DEPUTY-**   _Deadfoot:_  Black tom with a badly twisted left front paw and yellow eyes. 

 **SEER-**   _Buzzardface:_  Handsome brown tom with faint tabby markings, a somewhat-short tail and green eyes.  _(p: Barkface)_

 

**WARRIORS**

_Mudclaw:_  Dark brown, mottled tabby tom with yellow eyes. 

 _Tornear:_  Plain grey tom with extremely battered ears and green eyes.

 _Wrenwhisker:_  Skinny brown tabby tom with a lighter underside and yellow eyes.  _(p: Onewhisker)_

 _Nettlefoot:_  Plain grey molly with yellow eyes.  _(p: Ashfoot)_

 _Squirrelfur:_  Ginger tom with white front feet and brown eyes. _(p: Weaselfur)_

 _Owlwhisker:_  Light brown tabby tom with brown eyes.

 _Jaytail:_ Light grey-brown tom with faint tabby markings and yellow eyes.  _(p: Rushtail)_

 _Fawnfoot:_  Light brown tom with yellow eyes. _(p: Gorsetail)_

 _Antpelt:_  Small red-brown tom with unusual tabby markings and yellow eyes.

 _Cinderfoot:_  Frail, mottled-grey tom with brown eyes. 

 

**APPRENTICES**

_Roachpaw:_  Blue-grey tom with yellow eyes.  _(p: Webfoot)_ **Mentor- Wrenwhisker**

 _Lightpaw:_  Small, very pale golden molly with green eyes.  _(p: Whitetail)_ **Mentor- Buzzardface**

 _Copperpaw:_  Tortoiseshell molly with a white marking on her head and yellow eyes.  _(p: Sunstrike)_   **Mentor- Mudclaw**

 _Oatpaw:_  Golden-brown tom with a pale underside and brown eyes.  **Mentor- Fawnfoot**

 

**QUEENS**

_Dapplefur:_  Grey spotted tabby molly with a white chest and brown eyes.  _(p: Dewspots)_

 

**KITS**

_Cranekit:_ Light grey, faintly spotted molly.  _(p: Runningbrook)_  
_Falconkit:_  Grey tom with a white belly.  _(p: Eaglekit)_

 

**ELDERS**

_Crowfur:_  Black tom with a grey muzzle, whitening feet, and green eyes.

 

 

 

 

**RIVERCLAN**

 

 **LEADER-**   _Crookedstar:_  Huge, starkly striped brown tabby tom with a twisted jaw, a white underside, and green eyes. 

 **DEPUTY-**   _Oakclaw:_  Starkly-striped brown tom with yellow eyes.  _(p: Oakheart)_

 **SEER-**   _Shellcloud:_  Light-brown-and-white tom with yellow eyes. _(p: Mudfur)_

 

**WARRIORS**

_Leopardfur:_ Notably spotted golden molly with a white chest and green eyes.

 _Nightclaw:_ Smoky black tom with small white markings and orange eyes. _(p: Blackclaw)_

 _Stonefur:_  Grey tom with a white underside and feet, heavily scarred ears, and green eyes. 

 _Volefang:_  Small dark brown tabby with white markings and yellow eyes.  _(p: Voletooth)_

 _Frostflower:_  Pale grey-and-white molly with blue eyes.

 _Sloeclaw:_  Handsome black-and-white tom with green eyes.  _(p: Whiteclaw)_

 _Mallownose:_  Small brown-and-white tom with yellow eyes.

 _Swallowtail:_  Black molly with large white markings on her underside and green eyes.  

 _Minnowstream:_ Sleek grey-brown-and-white molly with green eyes.  _(p: Minnowtail)_

 _Ivytail:_ Dark brown molly with stark stripes and yellow eyes.

 

**APPRENTICES**

_Silverpaw:_  Pretty silver molly with white toes and green eyes.  **Mentor- Leopardfur**

 _Mottlepaw:_  Calico molly with hetereochromatic eyes.  _(p: Mosspelt)_ **Mentor- Minnowstream**

 _Pebblepaw:_  Spotted grey tabby tom with yellow eyes.  _(p: Stonestream)_ **Mentor- Stonefur**

 _Lampreypaw:_  Brown-and-white tabby tom with green eyes.  _(p: Beechfur)_ **Mentor- Mallownose**

 

**QUEENS**

_Duckflower:_  Brown-and-white molly with green eyes. _(p: Greenflower)_

 _Mistfoot:_  Grey molly with unusually light marble tabby markings, a white streak from throat-to-tail and toes, and green eyes.  _(p: Mistyfoot)_

 

**KITS**

_Cedarkit:_  Dark-brown-and-white tom.  _(p: Loudbelly)_ **Mother- Duckflower**  
_Otterkit:_  Chubby brown tom with large white markings.  _(p: Heavystep)_ **Mother- Duckflower**

 _Shadekit:_ Very dark grey tom with large white markings.  _(p: Perchkit)_ **Mother- Mistfoot**  
_Sheepkit:_  Dark grey-and-white molly.  _(p: Primrosepaw)_ **Mother- Mistfoot**  
_Starlingkit:_ Almost-black tabby tom with white markings.  _(p: Pikepaw)_ **Mother- Mistfoot**

 

**ELDERS**

_Greypath:_  Frail grey molly with large white markings and yellow eyes.  _(p: Greypool)_

 _Whitefang:_  Small white tom with small black markings on his head and tail, and green eyes.

 

 

 

 

** OUTSIDERS **

 

 _Barley:_  Big black-and-white tom with yellow eyes; lives on the Farm near WindClan. 

 _Smudge:_ Pudgy little black-and-white tom with green eyes; lives in the Houses near ThunderClan. 


	2. Family Trees

_Cats with altered names have an asterisk placed beside them._

 

 

**THUNDERCLAN**

 

 **Bluestar:**  Whitecloud (nephew)

 **Redtail:**  Spottedleaf (sister), Sandpaw (daughter)

 **Spottedleaf:**  Redtail (brother), Sandpaw (niece)

 **Lionpelt:**  Goldenflower (sister) 

 **Tigerclaw:**  Halftail (uncle)

 **Whitecloud:**  Bluestar (aunt)

 **Darkstripe:**  N/A

 **Lizardtail:**  N/A

 **Teaselfoot:**  Mousefur (sister)

 **Mousefur:** Teaselfoot (brother) 

 **Goldenflower:**  Lionpelt (brother) 

 **Speckletail:**  Dustpaw (son) 

 **Brindleface:**  N/A

 **Frostfur:**  N/A

 **Firepaw:**  N/A

 **Greypaw:** N/A

 **Ravenpaw:**  Patchpelt (grandfather)

 **Dustpaw:**  Speckletail (mother), ??? (father) 

 **Sandpaw:**  Redtail (father), Morningcloud* (mother)

 **Willowpelt:**  One-eye (mother), Cinderkit (daughter), Swiftkit (son)

 **Cinderkit:**  One-eye (grandmother), Willowpelt (mother), Swiftkit (brother), ??? (father)

 **Swiftkit:**  One-eye (grandmother), Willowpelt (mother), Cinderkit (sister), ??? (father)

 **Halftail:**  Tigerclaw (nephew)

 **Smallstorm:**  N/A

 **Patchpelt:**  Ravenpaw (grandson)

 **One-eye:**  Willowpelt (daughter), Cinderkit (granddaughter), Swiftkit (grandson)

 

 

 

 

**SHADOWCLAN**

 

 **Brokenstar:**  Raggedstar (father), ??? (mother)

 **Blackfoot:**  Dipperfoot (brother)

 **Murkpelt:**  N/A

 **Fogcloud:**  Mudclaw (father), Sootheart* (mother)

 **Bouldernose:**  N/A

 **Cinderfur:**  Wigeonfur (sister)

 **Clawedface:**  Batwhisker (cousin)

 **Littlethroat:**  Lizardstripe (mother), ??? (father)

 **Dipperfoot:** Blackfoot (brother)

 **Batwhisker:** Clawedface (cousin), Stoatkit (son), Toadkit (daughter)

 **Dusktail:**  Rainpaw (nephew) 

 **Wigeonfur:**  Cinderfur (brother)

 **Brightflower:**  Dawncloud (sister), Goldenkit (nephew)

 **Oakpaw:**  Brownpaw (brother), Newtpelt* (mother)

 **Brownpaw:**  Oakpaw (brother), Newtpelt* (mother)

 **Rainpaw:**  Dusktail (uncle), Spottedtail* (mother), ??? (father), Ashfur (grandfather)

 **Dawncloud:**  Goldenkit (son), Brightflower (sister)

 **Darkflower:**  Nightstar (father)

 **Poppytail:**  Stoatkit (son), Toadkit (daughter) 

 **Goldenkit:**  Dawncloud (mother), Brightflower (aunt) 

 **Stoatkit:**  Poppytail (mother), Batwhisker (father), Toadkit (sister)

 **Toadkit:**  Poppytail (mother), Batwhisker (father), Stoatkit (brother)

 **Ashfur:**  Spottedtail (daughter), Dusktail (son), Rainpaw (grandson)

 **Nightpelt:** Darkflower (daughter)

 **Palecloud:**  N/A

 

 

 

 

**WINDCLAN**

 

 **Rookstar:**  N/A

 **Deadfoot:**  Crowfur (father)

 **Buzzardface:**  N/A

 **Mudclaw:**  N/A

 **Tornear:**  Nettlefoot (sister), Cinderfoot (father), Roachpaw (nephew) 

 **Wrenwhisker:**  Owlwhisker (brother), Sparrowfoot (mother)

 **Nettlefoot:**  Tornear (brother), Cinderfoot (father), Roachpaw (son)

 **Squirrelfur:**  Antpelt (cousin)

 **Owlwhisker:**  Wrenwhisker (brother), Sparrowfoot (mother)

 **Jaytail:**  Oatpaw (cousin)

 **Fawnfoot:**  Lightpaw (daughter)

 **Antpelt:**  Squirrelfur (cousin)

 **Cinderfoot:**  Nettlefoot (daughter), Tornear (son), Roachpaw (grandson)

 **Roachpaw:**  Nettlefoot (mother), Tornear (uncle), Cinderfoot (grandfather)

 **Lightpaw:**  Fawnfoot (father) 

 **Copperpaw:**  N/A

 **Oatpaw:**  Jaytail (cousin)

 **Dapplefur:**  Cranekit (daughter), Falconkit (son)

 **Cranekit:**  Dapplefur (mother), Falconkit (brother) 

 **Falconkit:**  Dapplefur (mother), Cranekit (sister)

 **Crowfur:**  Deadfoot (son) 

 

 

 

 

**RIVERCLAN**

 

 **Crookedstar:**  Silverpaw (daughter), Oakclaw (brother) 

 **Oakclaw:** Silverpaw (niece), Crookedstar (brother) 

 **Shellcloud:** Leopardfur (daughter) 

 **Leopardfur:** Shellcloud (father), Brighttail* (mother)

 **Nightclaw:** Sloeclaw (brother), Shadekit (nephew), Sheepkit (niece), Starlingkit (nephew)

 **Stonefur:** Mistfoot (sister), Greypath (mother), Shadekit (nephew), Sheepkit (niece), Starlingkit (nephew)

 **Volefang:**  N/A

 **Frostflower:**  Pebblepaw (son)

 **Sloeclaw:**  Nightclaw (brother), Shadekit (son), Sheepkit (daughter), Starlingkit (son)

 **Mallownose:** Minnowstream (sister), Lampreypaw (son)

 **Swallowtail:**  Mottlepaw (daughter)

 **Minnowstream:** Mallownose (brother), Lampreypaw (nephew)

 **Ivytail:**  N/A

 **Silverpaw:**  Crookedstar (father), Willowcloud* (mother), Oakclaw (uncle)

 **Mottlepaw:** Swallowtail (mother), ??? (father)

 **Pebblepaw:** Frostflower (mother), ??? (father)

 **Lampreypaw:**  Duckflower (mother), Mallownose (father)

 **Duckflower:**  Lampreypaw (son), Cedarkit (son), Otterkit (son) 

 **Mistfoot:** Stonefur (brother), Greypath (mother), Shadekit (son), Sheepkit (daughter), Starlingkit (son)

 **Cedarkit:**  Duckflower (mother), Lampreypaw (brother), Otterkit (brother)

 **Otterkit:**  Duckflower (mother), Lampreypaw (brother), Cedarkit (brother)

 **Shadekit:**  Mistfoot (mother), Sloeclaw (father), Stonefur (uncle), Greypath (grandmother), Sheepkit (sister), Starlingkit (brother) 

 **Sheepkit:** Mistfoot (mother), Sloeclaw (father), Stonefur (uncle), Greypath (grandmother), Shadekit (brother), Starlingkit (brother)

 **Starlingkit:** Mistfoot (mother), Sloeclaw (father), Stonefur (uncle), Greypath (grandmother), Sheepkit (sister), Shadekit (brother)

 **Greypath:** Mistfoot (daughter), Stonefur (son), Shadekit (grandson), Sheepkit (granddaughter), Starlingkit (grandson)

 **Whitefang:**  N/A


	3. Prologue

“So what do you think?”

The sun was almost over the horizon, leaving a faint trail of stars in its wake. The last of the winter clouds had sailed southward in the afternoon. All that remained of the harsh hail and snow of the week before were melting spots of white on the ground and thin, misty stripes in the sky that the evening had turned yellow. Against the oncoming night, they resembled a tiger’s pelt.

A delicate tortoiseshell was watching these clouds, but her attention was focused on the cat sitting next to her – a tall blue molly with a stern face. She was staring into the forest as if the troubles in her mind were weaving through the trees in front of them. She gave no indication that she had heard the question.

The tortoiseshell paused before trying again. “What do you make of it?”

“I don’t make anything of it yet,” the blue molly said, a little too curtly. “I don’t know why he would say anything to us or what he’s so afraid of.”

“But he  _was_  afraid,” the tortoiseshell said, and her voice was much softer. “And that makes me afraid too.”

The blue molly glanced at her subordinate for a moment before scowling at the forest again. “You believe him.”

“StarClan sent me no sign that he was lying.” The tortoiseshell glanced backwards at the way they had come. “If you’re unsure, perhaps you should take up council-“

“No,” the blue molly said. “Not on the basis of rumors and paranoia.”

“We can’t just keep this hidden, Bluestar,” the tortoiseshell said. “At least talk with Redtail.”

There was a very long stretch of silence after this. The two cats watched the sky bleed from blue to black and swallow the last traces of the day. The stars trickled out one by one, only shining once the half-moon had risen from the north.

“I’ll talk with him,” Bluestar said at last. “We can send a scout to the border in the next few days.”

“Thank you,” the tortoiseshell said quietly. She lowered herself into a crouch and tucked her legs under her body. “Until then, though… we could always use more help.”

Bluestar did not move her head, but her angular yellow eyes slid over to look down at the tortoiseshell beside her. “So you think it’s time?”

“I do,” the tortoiseshell said. “There were sparks in the sky today.”

Bluestar looked at her fully. “You must be willing to advocate for him, even if they argue with you.”

“They  _will_  argue,” the tortoiseshell said, shutting her eyes. “But StarClan is never wrong. I know it’s the right decision.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Bluestar said. She stood up. “I’ll take a patrol. Keep this conversation between us until I speak with you again.”  

“Yes, ma’am,” the tortoiseshell said. She didn’t move until her superior had disappeared beyond the range of her hearing. Slowly, she looked back up at the sky. The half-moon looked back down at her.

“They’re never wrong,” she repeated to herself, and shivered. The moon’s light felt like ice.


	4. Chapter 1

Rusty jolted awake and immediately thumped his head on the bottom of the armchair he had been sleeping under. 

The little ginger tom crouched back down with a wince, waiting for the inevitable roll of thudding pain to pass. A pair of feet resting on the floor beside him jumped and shuffled with a sleepy gasp. The chair groaned and the top of a human head popped into view, peering at him upside down. It chortled and vanished while the feet crossed over each other.

Rusty huffed and crawled out from under his hiding spot, only partially irritated by his headache. The exact memory of his dream had vanished upon waking. He could at least remember a smell this time – something wild and fresh and delicious – but he had no idea what it belonged to.

Pointedly, he sat down a few feet away and started scratching at his blue collar, making the obnoxious little bell jingle. At his old home, he’d never had to wear one, but the human here had clapped it around his neck the day after he arrived, and they hadn’t taken it off since. Apparently it didn’t matter that it choked him half the time or that it rubbed horribly against his neck. They just cooed and stared as he tried to pull it off.

As anticipated, the human settled back into sleep without an acknowledgement of the bell. Rusty snorted and stalked into the kitchen, going right past his topped-off bowl of food and through the door flap into the garden.

The half-moon was perfectly above his head and uncovered by clouds, giving the humble little garden an eerie glow. Rusty purred at the chill in the air – it energized him, made his heart flutter with excitement for something unfamiliar. He stretched, shook himself, and jumped between potted plants and deck chairs until he was on top of the white fence, the cursed bell ringing gleefully all the while. He balanced himself, then settled into a crouch and a dreamy gaze.

Just beyond the borders of the houses, the forest loomed in the dark. The leaves were flickering in a faint breeze that hadn’t reached his yard. When he had come here, the branches only bore snow. He had watched the snow melt and the branches progress from empty to vibrant in total fascination. Even if he couldn’t remember, he knew he had dreamed about climbing one of those oaks at least once.

“There it is.”

Rusty blinked and looked to his right. A chubby black-and-white kitten was hefting himself onto the fence beside him.

“There’s that face,” he clarified, barely managing to not fall as he turned to face Rusty. “You’ve got that ‘one-day-I’ll-go-in’ face again.”

“Well, I  _will,”_  Rusty said. “I just don’t know when.”

“Make it soon, will you?” The pudgy kitten tried and failed to stretch casually without slipping. “Even Fiver down the way is starting to complain about you hovering on her fence all the time.”

“Yeah, well.” Rusty looked back at the woods. “Fiver should bring it up with me if it really bugs her. When did  _you_  talk to her, Smudge? I thought you hated going out of your garden.”

“I’m allowed to explore,” Smudge said.

“So am I,” Rusty said.

“Right, sure.” Smudge waved his tiny tail loftily. “I can go visit the neighbors, you can go to the woods and get chased away. Or eaten. And then your bones get used to file the claws of forest cats forever and-”

“Smudge,“ Rusty warned.

“Look, Henry said-“

“Henry hasn’t been anywhere outside his yard, so what does  _he_  know?”

“What do  _you_  know?” Smudge’s expression turned serious. His infantile features dampened the effect. “Everyone in this neighborhood says that the cats in the woods are dangerous. You’ve asked, I’ve asked  _for_  you, and it’s always the same answer. If they’re all just making it up, how come no one ever comes back from there? How come there’s always fur scattered in the grass?”

“There isn’t!” Rusty gestured at the grass a few feet away. “It’s totally bare.”

“You just haven’t seen it yet,” Smudge grumbled.

“Neither have you, kit-face,” Rusty said.

 _“You’re_  a kit-face.”

 _“You’re_  going off of superstitions,” Rusty said.  “Maybe there aren’t even cats in the woods, who knows?”

Smudge stared at him.

Rusty conceded internally that the marking scents were hard to ignore. “You get my point, though. There could be anything out there. I should check it out at least once.”

Smudge hummed unhappily. “If you have to, do it soon, alright, so I don’t have to keen over you as long.”

“You’re a swell friend, Smudge,” said Rusty. His nerves clawed at his chest, but he forced himself to stand up and start moving away. “Here, I’ll do it right now.”

“Right  _now?”_  Smudge echoed. He wobbled on the fence again. “Are you serious?”

“The sooner I get it done, the sooner I stop wandering around with that look on my face, right?” Rusty crouched, sizing up the distance to the ground and then jumping down, fighting his instincts to run back inside. “I’ll bring you something.”

“Like what?” Smudge sounded like he was trying to be casual, but his voice cracked. “There’s only ticks and fleas and sickness there! And bone-eaters!”

“Bone- _filers_ ,” Rusty called, heading off at a walk. “I’ll see you when I get back!”

 _“Rusty!”_  Smudge cried. Rusty picked up his speed and trotted into the forest. 


	5. Chapter 2

The trees were much larger than he expected.

Rusty stared around him, shivering with delight. It was an entirely different world here in the forest – waves of delicious, foreign smells rolled around him from all directions, each distinct enough that he could focus on one without losing the others. Every leaf and blade of grass seemed to bend towards him, as if welcoming him into the woods (which he knew was a dumb thought, but hey, he was in the forest, he could have all the dumb thoughts he wanted).

Only his first step was hesitant. He kneaded the earth, reveling in the feeling of uncut grass and clumps of soil. Specks of dirt clung to his paws and in between his toes as he walked. The ground was colder than the air and wet with precipitation, which in turn made even more dirt stick to him and numbed his paws. It was amazing.

Holding his head high, Rusty tasted the air. Guessing what the scents belonged to was almost as fun as knowing the actual source. There was a sharp and almost unpleasant smell which he imagined belonged to a gross-looking plant, another that he had to sit up to catch that probably came from the trees, and something wild and alive that made his mouth water.

He recognized  _that_  one.

On instinct, he bent into a crouch, crawling through the underbrush after the scent, thrilled at how quiet he was. He dared a peek over a patch of grass. Seated on the exposed roots of an oak was a tiny creature with a long, naked tail. It was unaware that it had company, judging by its focus on grooming itself, and it smelled  _delicious_. As slowly as possible, Rusty crept forward, silently praying that it wouldn’t notice him.

The bushes rustled.

Rusty flinched, alerting the animal and sending it running off into a hole in the roots. He grumbled to himself and sat up, swiveling his ears to catch where the sound was coming from. Somewhere to his left, he thought he could hear fur brushing up against the leaves. A new scent caught his attention. He sniffed, then tasted, narrowing his eyes at its familiarity.

Feline.

Rusty jumped to his feet.

The quiet of the forest was shattered by a high-pitched yowl and a grey shape exploding out of the undergrowth. Rusty had no time to react as he was knocked onto his side and rolled over, ending up on his back. The cat jumped on him, growling, and pinned him to his spot. He got a glimpse of bright yellow eyes before sharp teeth dug into his neck.

Rusty’s legs moved automatically. With all his strength, he kicked the cat square in the stomach and pushed outward. The cat was too heavy for him to move, but they puffed and let go of his throat, leaning to the side with a wheeze. Rusty scrambled onto his side and sent the cat rolling away. He whipped around to face his aggressor, snarling.

His aggressor, as it turned out, was only a little bigger than him – a grey puff of fur with thick tabby stripes along his side who was huddled over, trying to catch his breath. The tension in Rusty’s muscles vaporized. He sat down and licked at his neck, keeping a careful eye on the other cat.  

A few moments of silence passed before the kitten raised his wide head and spoke.

“You didn’t…have to…kick me,” he said in between breaths.

“You had me by the  _throat!”_  Rusty snapped, immediately bristling again. “What was I supposed to do, sit there and take it?”

“I didn’t… bite you  _that_  hard,” the other tom protested.

Rusty harrumphed, trying to will his neck to ache more than not at all. “Well, no, but you could have. It was instinct, that’s all.”

“Good instincts,” the tom said. He coughed, shook himself, and stood up, tail waving as if they hadn’t even fought. “You’ve got strong legs for a kittypet.”

“A what?”

“Kit-ty-pet,” the tom said slowly. “You live in those houses, right?”

“Well, yes, but-“

“So you’re a kittypet. You live with humans and wear that thing around your neck.”

Before Rusty could say anything else, the tom turned away from him and called into the bushes, “Did I do okay?”

There was a nearly inaudible sigh, and then a voice said, “You  _should_  have kept talking on your own, but I suppose you did fine.”

The bushes started rustling again. Out of spaces seemingly too small for them emerged two cats much larger than the grey kitten. The blue one, bearing a molly’s scent, was taller than any cat Rusty had ever seen. The darker one was shorter and longhaired, with a swishing, bushy tail and his slightly tattered ears folded backwards. Both of them had their eyes fixed on the house cat. 

Rusty stepped back, bristling, as the feral adults approached him. A nasally voice at the back of his head that sounded an awful lot like Smudge rebuked him for doing anything other than running back home.


	6. Chapter 3

“Relax, little one,” the molly said. Her voice was stern, but she was making an obvious effort to sound gentle. “We aren’t here to hurt you.”

Rusty glanced over at the other kitten and hesitantly sat back down. The three feral cats followed suit – the molly sitting perfectly straight and still, the tom settling his weight on his front paws, and the kitten moving and plopping down heavily beside the tom.

“Let me introduce myself,” the molly said. “My name is Bluestar. I’m the leader of ThunderClan, the group in the forest. This-“ she waved her tail at the tom beside her “-is Redtail, my second-in-command. The apprentice you were just fighting is Greypaw.”

“Hi,” Rusty said awkwardly. Redtail jerked his chin in acknowledgement. Greypaw purred. 

“The cats around here call you ‘Rusty’, don’t they?” Bluestar said. “We’ve overheard some of your conversations with your neighbors.”

“You and the fat one don’t make much of an effort to be quiet,” Redtail said. He obviously didn’t care if he sounded gentle or not, but his long, bushy tail was curled neatly around his paws and his eyes were clear of any irritation.

“We didn’t think anyone had a reason to listen in,” Rusty said. “Is snooping acceptable in the forest?”

Redtail stood up and advanced on him. Rusty didn’t get a chance to react before he was perfectly closed in a ring of fur, with Redtail’s head being entirely too close to his neck. He flinched and looked at Bluestar, who blinked peacefully at him. Rusty made himself sit still, though he kept turning his head to watch Redtail’s face.

“What do you think?” Bluestar said after a moment of silence.

Redtail sniffed at Rusty’s collar before answering. “If you had to pick one, I suppose this would be the best choice. Only mark on him is his collar.”

“Then you agree?”

“Mm.”

“Good.”

Bluestar motioned and Redtail returned to her side, both of them looking down at Rusty. He fidgeted, feeling a sudden sense of foreboding.

“You’ve probably guessed by now that we aren’t here by accident,” Bluestar said. “I ordered Greypaw to attack you as a test. The point was to see how you acted when confronted with one of our own, and you surprised me. Most house cats either run away or become vicious as soon as they think they have the advantage. You didn’t do either.”

Rusty said nothing.

“We’ve been watching you since the middle of winter,” Bluestar continued. “Waiting to see if you would act first, or wander into our territory sooner. Do you like what you’ve seen so far?”

Rusty blinked. “Uh- yeah. It seems pretty nice out here. Why?”

“I have a proposition for you.” Bluestar straightened her posture further, somehow, and gave Rusty a warm look. “How would you like to come live with us in the forest?”

“The  _kittypet?”_  Greypaw said, a little too loudly. 

“Yes, the kittypet,” Bluestar said, giving him a reproachful look. “I think you would be an excellent fit for our Clan, Rusty. You don’t have to give me an answer right away, but-“

“I don’t even really know what you’re offering,” Rusty said. “How do I know it’s not dangerous for me here?”

To his surprise, Bluestar looked pleased to be interrupted. “It _is_  dangerous, Rusty, don’t mistake me. You’re correct to question an offer like that. Out here, it’s not safe or easy like your current home, and I don’t know if you would want to stay on. But-“ here she gave a look at Greypaw and he swallowed whatever he was about to say. “-but, I can see that you have a lot of potential in you. If you were to join ThunderClan, you would be an excellent warrior.”

Rusty had to admit that the idea was pretty exciting, but he kept his face as cool as possible. “What makes living out here so hard? This is your land, isn’t it? Couldn’t you just chase anyone off if they caused problems?”

“We can, and do,” said Redtail. “But you can still get sick. The humans take care of you if you get ill, we know that. But there are no humans here to protect you or feed you. You can starve, or freeze, or be torn apart by dogs or foxes, or be killed in battle.”

“Redtail,” Bluestar said softly.

Redtail narrowed his eyes, but spoke a little more quietly. “You will have to work for the Clan. We expect all of our members to be loyal to the death, including you if you join us.”

“We will train you to hunt and fight,” Bluestar said. “Better than any other Clan in the territories.”

“So there’s other Clans?” Rusty said.

“Yeah, but ours is the best,” said Greypaw.

“You’ll learn about all of them in time,” said Bluestar.

The forest fell silent again. Rusty’s thoughts immediately engulfed him - a wild life away from humans. Catching food instead of eating whatever he was given. And fighting other animals, from what he inferred. It was risky, certainly, but at the same time he couldn’t help but be intrigued. 

“I can tell you need some time to think this over,” said Bluestar suddenly. “Two cats will be here tomorrow at this time. Give them your answer then.”

“Er-“ Rusty shook his head to clear it, with limited success. “Okay.”

“I hope I’ll see you soon,” Bluestar said. She stood up and signaled to the other two. “Greypaw, show him back to the border.”

“Got it!” Greypaw jumped up and trotted over to Rusty, gently nudging him until he stood up. “Come on.”

Rusty followed the apprentice, glancing back a few times until the two adults had disappeared from view. He was silent the whole way, trying to focus long enough to ask himself what he wanted to do. It wasn’t until they had stopped at the border of the woods that Greypaw spoke.

“It’d be pretty fun to have you in ThunderClan,” he said. “I mean, you seem alright.”

“You don’t seem too bad, either,” said Rusty. “Sorry for kicking your gut.”

“Sorry for biting your neck,” Greypaw said. He trotted back into the undergrowth, adding over his shoulder, “By the way, warriors don’t wear collars!”

Rusty waved his tail in acknowledgement and slowly walked to the fence. He was able to jump just high enough to land on the clean, white rail. The wood was splintery and dry compared to the forest ground.

“No collars,” he said to himself. The bell was quiet. 

Rusty sat down where he was and examined his paws, which were speckled with dew and dirt. He felt no inclination to clean any of it off.  


	7. Chapter 4

“Shut up.”

“I swear!”

“I don’t even believe you.”

“Believe me or not, I’m telling the truth.”

It was noon. The two house cats were seated on top of a small plastic table in Smudge’s yard, basking in the warmth of the sun and crouched close together. Smudge’s eyes were comically wide and Rusty had to repeatedly mind how loud his voice was getting, glancing at the fence every time he caught himself as if Redtail was going to be looking through a knothole.

“Why would they ask you to live with them?” Smudge said.

“I don’t know.” Rusty shuffled his feet excitedly. “I guess Bluestar saw something in me she liked.”

Smudge gave him an appraising look. “Yes, a cute blue collar with a bell certainly says ‘vicious warrior material’. Wonder if you’re going to get a weird name like them, too.”

“Shut up.” Rusty gently batted his face with a paw. Smudge snorted and lazily swung back.

There was a stretch of silence after this, each tom caught up in his own thoughts.

“You’re not actually thinking of joining them, are you?” Smudge said at last.

Rusty fidgeted. “Well…”

“Oh, no, come on-“ Smudge jolted into a sitting position, making the table wobble. “Rusty, you  _just_  met them!”

“I know, but-“

“And they told you it’s dangerous to live in the forest! You said it yourself! You  _just told me_  what they said!”

Rusty sighed.

“Don’t give me that,” Smudge said sharply. “Why would anyone just join a group that they don’t know anything about, even after being told about how hard life is for them? What if you starve to death? What if they all hate you and treat you poorly? What if you don’t like it there?”

“Then I’ll come back,” Rusty said, sitting up. “I’m not staying if it’s a bad fit.”

Smudge’s tiny tail lashed as well as it could and he growled something under his breath. He wouldn’t meet Rusty’s eyes. Rusty had a feeling he knew what was actually bugging his friend.

“I’ll come visit, if I can,” he said.

 _“If_  you can,” Smudge muttered bitterly. “They probably won’t want you speaking to house cats.”

“Then I’ll say hi from the border,” Rusty said. “Just look over the fence once in a while.”

Smudge shuffled his front feet and lowered his head. “Your owner’s going to be upset.”

Rusty blinked. He hadn’t thought about that. “Well… they did just get me. Maybe they won’t care all that much. And, hey! Maybe they’ll get another cat who likes sitting around and talking as much as you do. You’d like that, right?”

Smudge mumbled indistinctly.

“Well?” Rusty nudged him with his paw. “Wouldn’t you?”

Smudge visibly had to force himself to look Rusty in the eye. “What if you get killed and I never find out or see you again?”

Rusty considered this, then said quietly, “That might be better than knowing what happened.”

Smudge said nothing.

“I’ll be by the border when I can,” Rusty said. “We’ll see each other, at least once in a while. If I get the chance, I’ll come visit and tell you about everything.”

Smudge was still silent. Rusty stood up, bumped his head against his friend’s shoulder, and jumped onto the fence.

“I’ll talk to you in a bit,” Rusty said.

Smudge gave him a melancholy look. Rusty waved his tail and jumped down into his yard.

The cut grass jabbed at his feet where he landed. He nicked a blade of it with his claw, scrutinizing the dried and dead tips where the lawnmower had done its job. It was tidy, certainly, and he supposed it looked pretty.

But there was no substance, no mystery to it, he realized as he sat down and looked about his yard. Everything was too shiny, too clean. Even with how close he was to the flowers, their scent was faint and entirely too familiar compared to the forest. He was more intrigued about the maybe-plant he had caught a whiff of when he first crossed the border than the pansies right in front of him, and he didn’t even like that maybe-plant. Here, in his yard, Rusty had a sudden sense of being trapped in the tiny crate his owner had carried him in when they first brought him here.

Turning his head made the bell jingle. Without warning, his constant subconscious irritation exploded into fury. He scratched with his back foot, pushing and kicking at the bell until it bounced away into the grass. He smacked it and sent it flying against the wooden fence. It dinged weakly.

As if on cue, the door to the kitchen opened. Rusty turned and looked up at his human. Their face seemed to loom above him, too far away for him to really study. He scratched at his collar again.

For a moment, human and cat just stared at each other. Then the human bent down, crooning something high-pitched and overly sweet. Their elongated paws moved to his neck and fiddled with his collar. There was a click, and then the paws lifted away, holding the stiff material.

 _That’s about as good of a sign as any,_  Rusty thought. He purred and gratefully bumped his head against their leg.

The human scratched his ears, then stood up and shuffled around the garden, evidently looking for the bell. Rusty shook himself from head to tail, relishing in the feeling of air against his now completely bare neck. He trotted back to the fence, scaling upwards until he could sit on the ledge again.

His human gently stroked his back. Even though he purred, Rusty couldn’t say that he was going to miss the feeling. He looked up, squinting, silently willing the sun to disappear over the horizon. 


	8. Chapter 5

Rusty glared up at the moon, willing it to rise faster.

Smudge had disappeared into his house during the late afternoon, and no amount of calling would bring him back out. Rusty had been trying to entertain himself, but there was so much pacing and circling he could do. There was no point in spending time with his other neighbors if he was going to leave. Rusty had eventually settled by the border and waited.

And waited.

The moon reached its highest point. Rusty tried to ignore the possibility that Bluestar had changed her mind. She would have at least sent someone to tell him, right?

She would. It was just polite.

Rusty kept waiting.

At last, the underbrush shifted and two cats approached. Rusty jumped up, unable to hide his excitement.

“Are you Rusty?” said one. He was even bigger than Bluestar, with long golden hair that flared out around his neck, giving him an impressive mane. He sounded (and looked) tired, but it took nothing from his magnificent appearance.  

“Yes,” Rusty said.

“Have you made your-”

“Yes-” Rusty checked himself. “I want- I’d like to join.”

“Good,” said the other cat. He was long-bodied and pure white, with narrow yellow eyes and small scars littering his nose and ears. His voice was oddly soft for such an intimidating face. “And you’ve gotten your collar off. Have you been sitting here all evening?”

“More or less,” said Rusty.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” said the white tom. “My name is Whitecloud, and this is Lionpelt.”

Rusty blinked. “Sorry, What-pelt?”

“ _Lion_ pelt,” said Lionpelt. Before Rusty could say anything else, he added, “We’ll escort you to camp. Everyone’s waiting for us, so we’ll have to move quickly. Can you keep up if we run?”

Rusty was pretty sure he couldn’t. He nodded.  

“Then let’s not waste time,” said Lionpelt. He turned around and sprinted back into the woods, Whitecloud right behind him.  

Rusty had no time to second-guess himself. His legs started moving before it even occurred to him to follow.

He was right about his earlier assumption. Even without tripping over anything, the backsides of the two Clan cats were getting smaller and smaller no matter how fast he went. They jumped cleanly over a log that Rusty had to scramble over, and neither of them slowed down even as they waded through a dirty pool of water and slush. Rusty grit his teeth and bit back a cry of shock when the icy water hit his belly.

Abruptly, the toms stopped on a flat rock and faced him. Rusty stumbled to a halt, panting heavily. The forest’s center (he  _thought_  it was the center, at least) didn’t look much different from the border.

“Catch your breath,” said Lionpelt. “Can you smell anything?”

Rusty gasped for a long moment before tasting the air. “I can smell…cats?”

Lionpelt sighed.  

“He’ll learn,” Whitecloud said. “He has time.”

“He  _might_  have time,” Lionpelt said.

Whitecloud turned to Rusty. “When we go in, everyone’s going to decide whether they want you to join or not. You’ll need to be quiet and polite if you want to make a good first impression. Are you ready?”

Rusty nodded again. The toms turned and led him down a small path of stones and into a ravine which was invisible from above. Looking up to where he had come from, he marveled at how perfectly the bushes disguised the sandy patch of ground. Whitecloud and Lionpelt pushed through a patch of a strong-smelling plant that Rusty couldn’t identify and disappeared. Rusty held his breath and followed.

He was greeted on the other side by a wide clearing surrounded by fallen logs and a humongous crowd of cats, all long-haired and taller than him, even when sitting. Rusty halted, sharply aware of the countless narrowed eyes focused on him. The glade was dead silent.

Lionpelt, unbothered, walked to a stump near the edge of the clearing, where Bluestar was seated, with Redtail directly below her. “We’ve got him.”  

“Right on time.” Bluestar jumped down from the stump and trotted over to Rusty. “How did he do?”

“Much better than I expected,” said Whitecloud. He had his head turned to Bluestar, but his voice was loud enough for everyone to hear him. “He kept up well enough, despite his size. I think you’ve made a good choice with this one.”

A few cats muttered among themselves, decidedly unimpressed. Bluestar motioned for Rusty to follow her and jumped back onto the stump. Rusty was grateful that it was low enough for him to hop up onto without needing to expend more energy. Redtail gave him a curt nod. Rusty nodded back and looked over the crowd. He waved his tail at Greypaw, who was seated in the back.  

“This is the cat in question,” she said to the crowd. “Whitecloud, myself, Redtail, Greypaw and Spottedleaf have all agreed that he’s warrior-material. If you wish to speak for him or say something, now is the time.”

The crowd was silent for a moment, gazing up at Bluestar, before a pale brown tabby raised his head and spoke. “You brought a kit to become an apprentice.”

“I’m not a kitten!” Rusty protested, and flinched when everyone looked at him again. “I’m- I’m…”

“Two seasons old,” said a tortoiseshell seated nearby, speaking so quietly that Rusty almost didn’t hear her. “He’s the right age.”

“StarClan tell you that?” said the tabby. His tone slightly lost its venom.

The tortoiseshell blinked slowly and said nothing.

“Doesn’t  _look_ the right age,” said an elderly grey tom to the side. “Too tiny, and a kittypet on top of it. We don’t need an extra mouth in the Clan.”

“You said that yesterday,” said Lionpelt above the murmurs of agreement. “If he’s trained, then he won’t be useless.”

Bluestar blinked. “You’ll speak for him, then?”

Lionpelt spared a disinterested glance at Rusty and sat down. “Might as well.”

The crowd of cats whispered to each other, but Rusty couldn’t pick out exactly what they were saying. A pale grey molly raised her voice.

“I’ll speak for him, too,” she said. “I can see he’s got potential.”

“So will I,” croaked someone that Rusty couldn’t see.

“If we were to wait until the prey started coming back, maybe,” said a thin brown tom. “But the Clan’s overstuffed as it is, Bluestar.”

“This is ridiculous.” The tabby who had first spoken stood up and shouldered his way to the front of the crowd. “Why are we discussing this? Right off the hock of winter and you want to bring in a  _kittypet?_ He’s going to leave as soon as it gets cold again! Until then, he’ll scare off what little prey we have and probably bring his human out here tramping after him.”

This, the crowd agreed with, now sporting accusatory glares as if Rusty was responsible for whatever hardship they were facing. Despite his efforts, he bristled. Bluestar’s tail gently tapped his back.

“He’s got no reason to learn about us or our stories,” the tabby said. “Ask him right now if he knows about StarClan. Does he even know what a  _mouse_  is?”

“Is it too hard to teach me?” Rusty said.  “I can learn.”

The tabby gave him a contemptuous look. “It’d take you until you’re a warrior to learn what you need to just to catch your own food. We’d have to waste several seasons just making sure you don’t die from a cold or eat something poisonous.”

Rusty’s claws dug into the stump. “I’m not that stupid.”

“You so sure?” The tom tilted his head, eyes half-shut.

“Maybe  _you_  are, but-“

“Tigerclaw, what do you think?” Bluestar said, a little loudly.

From the center of the crowd, the largest cat rose and slowly moved forward. The cats around him immediately stepped out of his way, watching him expectantly. Redtail stood up, moved to the right, and sat back down.  

Bluestar gently nudged Rusty. “Meet him,” she whispered.

Rusty looked at her, then jumped down just as Tigerclaw passed the tabby. This dark brown tom was easily three times his size, with broad shoulders and a chest like a dog’s – wide and muscled, rather than slim like a normal cat’s. Rusty had to tilt his head back just to meet the massive warrior’s eyes, which were pale yellow and completely emotionless.

There was complete silence as the two looked at each other. The Clan waited.

Finally, Tigerclaw lifted his gaze and spoke to Bluestar. “I will speak for him.”

At once, the tension in the air dissolved, and the crowd settled. A few cats tossed a sulky, silent look at Rusty before sitting again. The tabby narrowed his eyes, but didn’t speak.

“That’s nine,” said Redtail. “The kittypet’s been granted entry.”

“Almost,” said Bluestar. “Rusty, face me.”

Tigerclaw stepped away. Slowly, gauging the easing faces of the crowd, Rusty turned around.

“This cat has agreed to join ThunderClan,” said Bluestar. “He now sheds his old life and name to commit himself to the Code, to our ways, and to our members. As he is six moons old, he is ready to become an apprentice.” She looked down at Rusty. “You have released yourself from the hold of your human keepers. From this day forward, until you have earned your warrior name, you will be called Firepaw.”

She left the stump and moved to the new apprentice’s side, facing the crowd. He hurried to match her position.

“I understand your concerns,” she said. “This is not a guarantee of a future warrior, as is the case with our Clan-born kits. But I will personally see to his training and ensure that he respects our traditions and laws.” She looked at the cat beside her warmly. “Firepaw, until you graduate, I will mentor you.”

“May you pass on your wisdom and excellent judgment to this ripe young mind,” Redtail said flatly.

There was a faint ripple of amusement, immediately followed by a remarkably unenthusiastic cry of, “Firepaw! Firepaw!” The cats then stood as one and separated, some moving forward to greet Firepaw with a touch of the nose and some moving away to other business.

“Firepaw!” Greypaw bounced past a pair of warriors and almost crashed into the new apprentice. “That’s a great name! How does it feel being a member of ThunderClan?”

Firepaw looked around the camp, watching the dispersing cats, and exhaled. “Let me get back to you on that.”


	9. Chapter 6

As it turned out, Firepaw did not get back to Greypaw on that until dawn. 

The rest of the night was spent exploring the territory around the camp, with Bluestar as his guide. Firepaw was almost immediately overloaded with information - stories and anecdotes for every tree, bush and stone were divulged with the solemn weight of an earth-shattering secret, which he couldn’t understand. He had to memorize everything, too; Bluestar would occasionally stop and quiz him about something they had seen halfway across the territory. A wrong or hesitant answer was met with annoyance.  

“You don’t have time to learn all of this slowly,” Bluestar said after Firepaw failed to recall a particular stone’s marks. “Even our kits are faster to answer than you, and they’ve never stepped out of camp. The sooner you understand and recognize everything, the sooner you’ll be accepted by your Clanmates.” 

“They do know that I just got here, right?” Firepaw said wearily. “And that it takes time to learn-” 

“They don’t care,” Bluestar said sharply, and that was that. 

Some things were easier to remember than others. The borders were carefully marked by scent and the end of the treeline. Beyond them, other feline marks gave a clear warning. Firepaw wouldn’t have to worry about accidentally stumbling into enemy grounds, at least. 

“This area currently belongs to RiverClan,” Bluestar said, halting just before a stretch of land with broad, flat rocks scattered around. “That will be amended in time. For now, stay away from here.” 

Firepaw had a feeling it was better to not reply to that. Instead, he asked, “How many Clans are there?” 

“Four,” said Bluestar. “RiverClan is across the way. ShadowClan is past the road in the east. WindClan is beyond the Four Trees, on the moor.” 

“Are they our friends?” 

“Sometimes.” 

“It just seems strange to split up land like this, is all.” Firepaw felt a twinge of apprehensiveness, but pushed on. “Wouldn’t we benefit from just being one big group working together?” 

Bluestar gave him a condescending, maternal look, like he was a kit asking stupid questions. 

Firepaw tried not to bristle. “I’m just asking why. It makes sense, doesn’t it?” 

Bluestar made a small sound of amusement and started walking again. “It’s been discussed before, but never implemented. The Clans are too different from each other to make uniting an easy transition, not to mention that most of their individuals don’t like each other in the first place. This land is large and varied enough that cats would eventually split up again to specialize in something, anyway.” 

“I mean, it’s four Clans with the same structure,” Firepaw mumbled. “I just figured…” 

 _“That_  will take time for you to understand,” said Bluestar. “But you’ll see. The less our Clans have to do with each other, the better.” 

 

Firepaw was dead on his feet by the time they arrived back to camp, the sky stained yellow in the north. A few cats glanced over and waved their tails or nodded, the tension mostly gone from the air. It took all of Firepaw’s remaining scraps of energy to acknowledge them with a similar gesture. 

Bluestar directed Firepaw to a broad bush, which Firepaw stumbled into before she could explain what it was. The inside was half-hollow with dead spots on the base of the bush as if some of the branches had been pulled off. In the corner were a pair of young cats that looked older than him - a pale molly and a brown male sitting close together and whispering.  

“Oh, there he is,” muttered the tom. He lifted his head high enough so that he could look down his nose at Firepaw. “How do you like our territory, kittypet?” 

Firepaw was almost too tired to engage them, but he made himself stand straight and speak clearly. “I like it just fine.” 

The two apprentices gave each other a disdainful look. 

“You better not have gotten your scent everywhere,” said the molly. “We don’t want your friends thinking they can come in here and steal our mice.”

“Not that they could even catch anything,” said the tom. Despite his lofty tone, his tail was stiff and his eyes were narrow. “Not after they were changed, at least.”

“Did they change you already?” said the molly. 

Firepaw blinked. “Change me how?” 

“You know, what your humans do.” The tom curled his lip. “Cut you up, take out your life-force. They make you stupid and lazy. Then you can’t have kittens, and you’re useless.”

“He can’t have kittens anyways, Dustpaw.” Greypaw pushed through the leaves into the den, a bushy-tailed animal in his mouth. “He’s a tom.” 

Dustpaw’s tail lashed, but Greypaw didn’t even look his way. 

“Did you have fun today?” Greypaw said to Firepaw, dropping his cargo. 

“I like the Clan life so far,” said Firepaw. “There’s just a lot to learn.” 

Greypaw bumped his head against Firepaw’s shoulder and nearly knocked him to the ground. “Well, Lionpelt said you’ll go with me and Ravenpaw tomorrow for training. In the meantime, are you hungry?” 

Firepaw looked at the animal. “Are we eating  _that?”_  

The molly scoffed. 

“If you want to share, sure.” Greypaw crouched beside it. “Squirrels are made for two cats, after all. Here, give it a try.” 

Firepaw made a mental note to thank Greypaw every day for the rest of his life and eventually bring Smudge a squirrel as soon as he took his first bite of real meat. 


	10. Chapter 7

_“Dodge him!”_  Bluestar barked. 

Firepaw stumbled sideways just in time to avoid Greypaw’s tackle. Greypaw skidded to a halt in the sand, turned around, and leaped again. This time he hit his mark and knocked the wind out of Firepaw, who rolled onto his side, coughing. 

“Oh-” Greypaw backed away. “Sorry. Are you alright?” 

Firepaw couldn’t muster the energy for a response. His sleeping had been constantly interrupted during the day by the activity within camp and the obnoxious chirping of birds (or the occasional distant screech when one was caught). Then Bluestar had woken him early in the evening to start training and made him run all the way to the sandy hollow near the road without giving him the chance to eat or properly wake up. 

Firepaw shook his head in another attempt to clear it and staggered to his feet. 

“Do I have to attack him again?” Greypaw looked over at Bluestar and Lionpelt, who were sitting to the side and watching the apprentices spar. “He’s-” 

“Once Ravenpaw and Whitecloud get here, you can stop,” Bluestar said. 

Greypaw mumbled something unhappily and turned back to Firepaw. “Are you ready?” 

Firepaw braced himself. He jumped away from Greypaw’s lunge, this time managing to pivot himself on landing to return the favor. Greypaw gave a slightly delayed “oof!” and rolled onto his back. 

“You got me,” Greypaw said, exaggeratedly weak. 

Firepaw batted his stomach with a paw. “I didn’t even budge you and you know it. You don’t have to be nice.”

Whatever answer Greypaw opened his mouth to give was cut off by the nearby ferns rustling. Whitecloud stepped out of the brush, meowed a greeting to the group and halted, murmuring to someone behind him. His shadow twitched and inched forward, revealing a grass-thin black cat with only a spot of white on his chest and wide yellow eyes to differentiate him from the night around them. 

“Tigerclaw’s border patrol wants you,” Whitecloud said to Bluestar. “Teaselfoot said it’s urgent.” 

Bluestar narrowed her eyes and stood up. “Have these three practice hunting.” 

Whitecloud watched her go before turning to Firepaw. “You two didn’t get a chance to meet yesterday - this is my apprentice, Ravenpaw.” 

“Hi,” said Firepaw. 

“Hi,” mumbled Ravenpaw, looking at the ground. His white-tipped tail quivered.

“Line up and crouch,” said Lionpelt. “Let’s see if you can get the stalk down before Bluestar comes back.”

Time dragged on as the three apprentices crouched, crawled, had their poses corrected and moved back to their starting position. Greypaw by far got the most reprimands, showing a surprising amount of clumsiness, but Firepaw wasn’t let off easy. Whitecloud, patient though he was, gave him plenty of critique to work with. Ravenpaw was silent the whole time, but Firepaw could feel him glancing over constantly at the other two.

Firepaw was grateful for when Lionpelt finally told them to take a break. He sat where he was, barely resisting nodding off into sleep.

“Well, that settles it.” Greypaw sat down right beside Firepaw. “The only way I’m getting any mice is by finding the stupid ones and then sitting on them until they surrender. Hey, Ravenpaw, come here! You have to show me how you stalk so well.”

Ravenpaw flinched like he had been hit. He glanced at his mentor, who blinked slowly, and edged forward until he was a tail-length away from the other two apprentices.

“Ravenpaw’s a great hunter,” Greypaw said to Firepaw. “He’s caught prey by himself before Whitecloud had the chance to teach him.”

Ravenpaw shuffled his paws. “Nothing  _big_ , I mean-”

“Oh, that vole was fatter than me.” Greypaw purred delightedly, waving his fluffy tail. “And delicious, on top of it.”

“Is a vole like a squirrel?” Firepaw asked.

“He doesn’t know anything about prey,” Greypaw whispered to Ravenpaw, and turned back to Firepaw. “Voles are more like mice, actually, just without the tail - they’re little brown or grey animals, maybe the size of Lionpelt’s paw.”

Firepaw blinked. “I think I’ve seen a mouse. When I first came into the forest, I went after something like that before you attacked me.”

“Did you catch it?” Ravenpaw said, and immediately muttered, “Sorry, dumb question.”

“I didn’t, no,” said Firepaw. “I don’t think I’d know what to do with one if I chased it, anyway.” 

There was a brief pause, during which Ravenpaw shuffled awkwardly. Firepaw tried to think of a topic. 

“What’s Lion and Tiger?” he said at last. 

“Oh!” Ravenpaw perked up. “They’re gods. Or, they’re named after gods- Lionpelt and Tigerclaw, I mean.” 

“You’ve never heard of Horoa or Rokhar?” Greypaw gave Firepaw a funny look. 

“No,” Firepaw said. “Is Horoa like Oroa*?” 

“That’s who Lionpelt is named after,” Ravenpaw said. “There’s the Three - Rokhar, Suriin, and Horoa - and Lionpelt is named after the youngest, the Lion.” 

“Um…” 

“He hasn’t had time to learn our stories yet,” Whitecloud said from just outside the sandy pit. “Why don’t you two tell him about them, while you’re resting?” 

“Us?” Ravenpaw flinched and looked at his mentor. “Are you sure?” 

“Go on, then,” said Lionpelt, lowering to lay on his side, his head propped onto his shoulders. “You’re not kits anymore. You can tell stories.” 

“Help me out,” Greypaw said to Ravenpaw. “I’ll probably say something wrong.” 

“Al-alright.” Ravenpaw looked like he would rather be anywhere than here, but he nodded. “Maybe…should we start with the First?” 

Firepaw had no idea what they were talking about. He decided not to say anything, instead just crouching and tucking his feet under him as Greypaw sat up straight and began to speak. 

 

 

* _Oroa_ is Lionpelt’s feline prefix, meaning “bearing resemblance to Horoa”. See [here](http://warriorsredux.tumblr.com/post/146541109043/the-three-lion) for more information.


	11. Chapter 8

**THE FIRST STORY**

 

“So, a long time ago, the world was ruled by gigantic beasts. Monsters, really. They destroyed whatever was in their path - trees, hills, rivers, everything, until there wasn’t any more stuff to destroy.” Greypaw puffed himself up and stomped in place. “Just a lot of rubble and torn-up ground. And they were really big, too - Lionpelt would be like a pebble to them.” 

Lionpelt snorted. 

“But there was one that was stronger than the others,” Greypaw said. “And monsters fought each other all the time, but they were all scared of this one, because she was fierce like a queen.” 

“She could swallow each of them whole-” Ravenpaw started, and then leaned back. “Sorry.” 

“No, go ahead.” Greypaw curled his tail. 

“Alright.” Ravenpaw paused, glancing once or twice at Greypaw as if asking permission before continuing. “Well, she was so big that she could swallow each of them whole. And she did just that. There was an incredible battle between her and the rest of the world’s monsters, and during it she killed and devoured all of them. Or, almost all of them. There were a few that split themselves into tiny pieces and scattered them in the wind so that she couldn’t find them.” 

Firepaw blinked. “Why was she eating them to begin with?” 

“Oh, well- she was…” 

“Old,” said Greypaw. “Really old, and-” 

“Old, yeah,” said Ravenpaw. “But by the time she got through, she was exhausted. But that’s- we’re leading into that.” 

“Yeah,” said Greypaw. “So she finished eating all the monsters, and she started walking. And she got to this forest - the remains of it, actually - and decided to rest there. Ravenpaw, you tell this part, you’re better at it.” 

Out of the corner of Firepaw’s eye, Whitecloud and Lionpelt leaned forward. 

“Uh-” Ravenpaw fidgeted. “Okay. So, so she came to this area, back when it was just mulch and ash, and laid down at the edge of it. And… she was very wise, and she knew that some of the monsters had gotten away from her, and she had a plan. And preparing for this, she gave birth to three children.

“The first was the color of sunset and night striped together - big as the sky, silent and in- in…”

“Incomprehensible,” said Whitecloud quietly. 

“Incomprehensible,” said Ravenpaw. “And this one she called Rokhar - the Tiger. She bid him to color the sky, to mark it and create day and night. He was to give the world time, something we can measure and understand, so that everything doesn’t happen at once. And for- well, that’s…that’s later. Anyway…

“The second one was elegant and swift, with a beautiful spotted pelt and pure white eyes that gave off an eerie, cold glow. This was Suriin, the Leopard. She was tasked with bringing water and clouds here, and breathing life into the ground, raising the remains of trees from the mud to make them stand again. She-she made a groove for the river to run through and scattered seeds of the destroyed plants wherever they would grow, and made the clouds rain down until they bloomed. 

“And the third one - the final one - was a magnificent golden being, with a mane and tail of fire and impossibly bright eyes.” (Lionpelt rumbled approvingly.) “He was called Horoa, the Lion, and he was given the duty of chasing down the last of the monsters and their shards, destroying them so that they could cause no more trouble. But there- there were and are many shards that hide from him, and so he works endlessly, even to this day, to secure the world from evil beings like those. But, um, that’s unrelated.” 

Ravenpaw had been looking increasingly more uncomfortable as he spoke, his voice wavering. At this last sentence, he fell silent, looking at the ground. 

Greypaw stretched with a purr. “See, told you. Go on, then!” 

“Why don’t you tell the next part, Greypaw?” said Whitecloud. 

“Well, alright, I guess.” Greypaw sat up straight. “So after those three were born, the monster - or, well, she’s the Mother now? Anyway, she waited until the forest was strong and healthy again, and she laid down and opened her mouth. And from it came all sorts of life! Mice, rabbits, birds, squirrels, weasels, badgers, foxes, and cats. Some of them were formed from the remains of monsters, so they didn’t come out quite right, but us cats, we were her best work. And she gave us the forest, and told us to live there in peace and happiness, and-” 

The bushes parted and Greypaw cut himself off. Bluestar stalked out of the darkness, hair ever-so-slightly raised on her back. 

“What’s happened?” Whitecloud slowly sat up. 

Bluestar looked at him, eyes narrowed. “I’m glad they called me.” 

“Have the fish-eaters been crossing into our territory?” Lionpelt asked sharply. 

“No,” said Bluestar. “But we need to investigate why the RiverClan border has traces of ShadowClan’s scent on it.” 


	12. Chapter 9

It was unusually cold for such a clear night.

Firepaw resisted the urge to shiver. His fur was much shorter and thinner than that of his companions’, none of whom noticed the frost on the grass they walked through. Firepaw, meanwhile, could barely feel his paws and had to force himself to walk normally instead of high-stepping all the way across the forest.

He had been approached earlier that day by Bluestar and told that he was going to the Gathering. He didn’t have the chance to ask what a Gathering was before she walked away. He had instead consulted Greypaw and Ravenpaw, who were joining him.

“There’s going to be a lot of cats there.” Greypaw bounced on his toes. “All the other Clans- maybe some apprentices on their first Gathering, like us!”

Ravenpaw mumbled something unhappily and seemed fixated on grooming his tail.

Aside from the three, the patrol consisted of Tigerclaw, Bluestar, a skinny and slightly twitchy tom named Teaselfoot, a brownish tortoiseshell named Speckletail, and a polite, pretty young molly called Brindleface.

Also in the group was a sleek tabby called Darkstripe, who Firepaw hated almost immediately. His resting face was that of someone who caught an unpleasant smell and couldn’t get it out of their nose, pale yellow eyes narrowed and lip slightly curled in distaste. He made a point of looking down his nose at the apprentices, despite not being all that tall or high in ranking himself. He was also quick to agree with and flatter Tigerclaw on anything he said. Firepaw had the sudden desire to watch him trip and fall into the mud.

“Remember to be polite and friendly,” Bluestar said. “In the waking nights, the Clans are allies.”

“That just means put off clawing them until tomorrow,” Teaselfoot muttered to Firepaw.

In short time, the patrol broke free of the forest, heading up a short slope and approaching four humongous trees circled by a smooth dirt path. Sharp, unfamiliar scents from all corners of the area made Firepaw cough in surprise. Ravenpaw sneezed.

Some of these scents came from the crowd of cats already gathered below a massive, smooth boulder. Bluestar broke away from them and leaped up on the boulder, muttering greetings to the two cats seated next to her - a broad-shouldered brown tabby with a twisted jaw and an incredibly tall black tom with a patch of white from his chin to his chest.

“Don’t make ThunderClan look bad,” Darkstripe hissed at the apprentices. He followed Tigerclaw to the front of the crowd. Firepaw couldn’t help but notice that the pleasant greetings that met them were all preceded with Tigerclaw’s name. 

Brindleface gently tapped Firepaw with her tail to get his attention. “Speckletail and I will be over there if you want us. No need to worry about interrupting us.”

The two mollies trotted off to greet a pair of plump queens and Teaselfoot bumped heads with a few young-looking warriors, leaving the trio of apprentices on their own.

“Well, better get to it before the Gathering starts,” Greypaw said, stretching his neck to look over the crowd. “Hey, you! Which Clan are you from?”

“RiverClan,” said a silver apprentice. “Isn’t that obvious?”

“Not close enough to smell the fish, I guess,” Greypaw said. “You can guess our Clan, right?”

The molly scoffed. “Impossible to guess, fluffbutt. You and the black one are from ThunderClan. Who’s the ginger?”

Greypaw nudged Firepaw forward. “This-” he said grandly, ignoring Firepaw kicking at his head. “-is our newest apprentice, Firepaw.”

“Hello,” Firepaw said awkwardly.

The molly looked him up and down. “Good name. You’re awful scrawny for a furball, you know that?”

“I’m not-”

“He used to be a kittypet,” Greypaw whispered loudly.

The molly’s eyes widened. “So you  _are_ taking in rabble! I thought Volefang was just kidding.”

“I’m not rabble,” Firepaw said, and made his fur lie flat. “I’m just… you know, new.”

The molly made an amused sound. “That’s one word for it.”

 _“There_  you are,” called Bluestar. Firepaw let himself be distracted and looked up at his leader. She was staring the way they had come at a group of apprentices. “You’re usually here before we are.” 

As they drew closer, Firepaw realized that these cats were full-grown, but they were barely his size - all dark and shrunken with wide eyes. One of them, a spotted grey tabby, looked almost like a kitten, and the dark brown leader of the patrol was barely as tall as Darkstripe. This one waved his crooked tail in greeting and effortlessly jumped up onto the boulder. 

“Apologies,” he said smoothly. “We had a little situation. Shall we begin?” 

“Should give your Clanmates a minute to say hello, oughtn’t you?” said the tabby. His speech was slightly garbled by his crooked mouth. 

“Believe me, we’re all very eager to get started.” The dark brown tom curled his tail around his toes (as well as he could, with the kink in the middle). “I think it’s important that we give you our news.” 

“To business, then,” said Bluestar. She stood up and gave a wordless yowl to silence the crowd. “The Gathering has now begun!” 


	13. Chapter 10

With the crowd silent, the tabby with the broken jaw stood up. All eyes immediately trained on him.

“Greetings to all of you on this brisk night,” he began, half-drawling. “We have-”

“If I may…” The dark tom leaned forward to look at the other leaders. “ShadowClan would like to speak first.”

The tabby turned and stared at him. Firepaw could see his fur rise and force itself back down, his short tail stiffen and gradually relax. Members of the crowd muttered.

“Very well,” he said with forced calmness. “I assume it’s important?”

“Immeasurably.”

“Go on, then.” The tabby sat back down.

“Thank you.” The dark tom stood up and took a step forward so he was toeing the edge of the rock. “As Crookedstar said, many greetings. I apologize for my brusqueness tonight, but there is a piece of news that I believe is impertinent to the safety of my fellow leaders and their Clans. I would not dare to interrupt any of you otherwise.”

“Perhaps you should get to it,” the tall tom said flatly.

The dark tom made no sign he had heard him. “A few days ago, a rogue escaped from ShadowClan’s territory. Our scouts have reported sighting her heading east, towards the river. What she intends to do, I can’t say, but I must stress that this is a very dangerous, volatile individual who is responsible for several deaths.”

Voices erupted from the crowd. The dark tom raised his chin and waited until the noise died down.

“I understand that RiverClan has recently found our scent in their territory,” he went on. “ShadowClan has not and will never intrude on your homes, and you have my sincere apologies that this cat has caused you trouble.”

“So the scents around the Barn is that of a rogue, then?” the tall tom said.

The dark tom blinked and peered at his fellow leader. “I wasn’t informed of this, Rookstar. We only received reports of her near the river.”

Whatever Rookstar felt about this was impossible to discern. He turned his head back to the crowd without responding.

“Regardless-” the dark tom followed suit, bent tail low. “This rogue was intended to be punished for her crimes, but she fled and escaped into the Aulmir*. We lost track of her there.”

Crookedstar made a ‘hrrf’ noise and tilted his head. “Not one of you could catch her, ah? What’s this rogue look like, in case she appears on our lands again?”

“An old grey molly with a flat face,” the dark tom said. “Probably stinking of humans and rotten meat. You’ll know her if you see her.”

Bluestar turned to stare at him. “Your  _seer?”_

He lowered his head morosely. “She deliberately led Raggedstar and Brownpaw to their deaths through false signs.”

The crowd shifted and hissed among itself. Out of the corner of Firepaw’s eye, Greypaw shrank.

“If any of you find her…” The dark tom straightened up again. “You have ShadowClan’s permission to deliver justice. Do not trust anything she tells you. This is a criminal willing to do whatever it takes to survive, and she knows how to fight.”

Bluestar’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll stay on high alert. Thank you for sharing this, Brokenstar.”

“Didn’t think one of your seers would do something like that,” Crookedstar said.

“Neither did we,” Brokenstar said tiredly. He paused, allowing the crowd to settle before adding, “In lighter news, we have a new apprentice named Rainpaw. Unfortunately, he caught green-cough and couldn’t come tonight.”

“We hope he’ll recover to come next moon,” Rookstar said. The stiffness of his posture did not imply any actual well-wishing.

“He’ll appreciate that.” Brokenstar sat back down. “That’s all our news for tonight.”

“Well, that beats ours,” Crookedstar said. He stood up anyway. “Two of RiverClan’s apprentices graduated just after the last Gathering - Volefang and Leopardfur have joined us as bright-eyed warriors.”

Firepaw had to sit up to see a golden molly with odd spots raise her head proudly in the center of the crowd. He couldn’t locate the other cat - all eyes were on her.

“Leopardfur’s already taken on an apprentice.” Crookedstar puffed out his chest and nodded to the silver molly Greypaw had been talking to. “My daughter, Silverpaw, went through her ceremony yesterday.”

“You’re Crookedstar’s kit?” Greypaw whispered over the purrs of the cats around them.

Silverpaw yawned.

“Our territory has been recently expanded as well.” Crookedstar gave Bluestar an entirely too smug look. “RiverClan is grateful for the extra hunting space.”

Rookstar shut his eyes with a slightly wrinkled nose.

“I’m sure you are,” Bluestar said politely. “Please feel free to let ThunderClan know if you want to learn how to hunt voles and mice. We understand that RiverClan is used to easier prey.”

“Is RiverClan done with their news?” Rookstar said, opening his eyes.

Crookedstar shut his mouth on whatever he was about to say and slowly sat down. “We are.”

Rookstar rose to his feet and moved forward on impressively gangly legs. “An unfamiliar fox has been reported near the beginning of the river. Apprentices may want to exercise caution if it wanders downhill. That is all.”

“What’s a fox?” Firepaw whispered.

“A thing like a fluffy dog that’s kind of your color,” Greypaw whispered. “They eat-”

“ThunderClan has three new apprentices,” Bluestar said, jolting both toms back to attention. “Greypaw, Ravenpaw and Firepaw.”

It suddenly occurred to Firepaw to look around. “Where did Ravenpaw go?”

Greypaw looked behind him. “Er-”

“Nothing else to report?” said Crookedstar.

“No,” said Bluestar.

“Then the Gathering is over.” Crookedstar stood and stretched. “’Til the next waking night.”

“Hm,” said Rookstar. He jumped down and trotted out of the four trees. Cats wove through the crowd and followed him silently.

“There he is,” Greypaw said, nodding at the back.

The little black apprentice was speaking with a cat about his size and color, with the same wide yellow eyes. He even had white markings, though on his neck and feet instead of tail and chest. He didn’t look much older than Ravenpaw, either.

 _Practically could’ve come from the same Clan,_ Firepaw thought. He watched the tom say something, stand up, and lope after his Clanmates. Ravenpaw sat perfectly still, not noticing the other apprentices approach.

“Good on you, making some friends!” Greypaw said, gently batting him on the shoulder.

Ravenpaw wobbled and blinked. “I- well, I don’t- I guess.”

“What were you talking about?” Firepaw said.

Ravenpaw hesitated, blinking again like he had just woken up. “I’m not sure. Something about paths and stars? He was kind of hard to follow. I didn’t even get a chance to say anything before he sat down beside me and started talking.”

“Well, were you going to say anything?” Firepaw asked.

Ravenpaw shook his head meekly.

“You ought to next time,” said Greypaw. “We were sitting with Crookedstar’s daughter.”

“How was she?” Ravenpaw stood up as Bluestar jumped off the boulder.

“Seems alright,” said Greypaw. “For a fish-face.”

The three apprentices fell in line together, trotting to catch up to their Clanmates. Firepaw glanced back, waving his tail at Silverpaw, who raised a paw before turning to follow her father.

 

 

* _Aulmir_  translates to both “south” and “human’s camp”, used here in reference to the town near the territories. See [here](http://warriorsredux.tumblr.com/post/146519261460/the-four-directions) for more information.


	14. Chapter 11

“I’ll need Firepaw to come with me.”

All three apprentices raised their heads from their meals and looked across the clearing. Bluestar was lounging below the meeting stump, blinking sleepily. In front of her was a very pretty tortoiseshell Firepaw vaguely knew was called Spottedleaf, head and tail high. Among her Clanmates, she almost shone with cheeriness.

Roughly half a moon had passed in silence, with no word or scent of the mysterious rogue wandering over the territories. The two best trackers in the Clan - Mousefur and, surprisingly, Sandpaw - returned nightly to camp with nothing to show for their efforts. Teaselfoot’s scouting trips were equally fruitless. Even Lionpelt had organized several patrols to investigate near the Houses and had no luck. The whole Clan was tired, frustrated, and on edge, each cat waiting silently for the rogue to appear out of the bushes and bring someone else to their death.

Bluestar, looking particularly drained, barely raised her head enough to speak. “And where are you going?”

“Out,” Spottedleaf said. “Taking a walk.”

“Hm.” Bluestar’s eyes shut and slowly opened again. “Firepaw, come here.”

Firepaw only hesitated for a moment before rising to his feet, swallowing his mouthful and slowly approaching the two mollies.

“Spottedleaf has asked for your company,” Bluestar said. “You must stay close to her at all times and listen to what she tells you.”

“I will,” Firepaw said. “Where are we going?”

“Where StarClan will take us,” Spottedleaf said. “Come along!”

She turned and trotted for the entrance, almost bouncing on her toes. Firepaw glanced at Bluestar, who nodded, and uncertainly followed after her.

The pair were silent, weaving through the trees while the moon sunk lower and lower in the south. Spottedleaf was almost somewhere else, wandering aimlessly, examining every leaf and flower as though it held the world’s secrets, unaware of anything else around her. Firepaw shuffled awkwardly after her and tried to think of something to say.

“What did you mean, earlier?” he said at last.

Spottedleaf looked at him and tilted her head.

“About StarClan,” Firepaw said.

“You’re still unaware of StarClan.” Spottedleaf walked past him to investigate a patch of grass.

“Sort of.” Firepaw side-stepped a thornbush. “Greypaw and Ravenpaw tried to explain it to me, but I just…”

“It’s difficult for an outsider to understand,” Spottedleaf said gently.

Firepaw paused, eyes narrowed. He couldn’t tell if she was being condescending or not.

“You know what I am, at least?”

“A seer.”

“You know what a seer is?”

“Someone who…talks with StarClan?”

Spottedleaf purred loudly. “You’ve been paying attention. Very good!”

Firepaw squinted. Nothing about her posture gave away any sarcasm or mockery.

“The Clans down here are that of the living,” Spottedleaf said, turning and padding off. She paused to let Firepaw catch up and walk beside her. “Above us is StarClan. The memories of our passed loved ones and ancestors rest in the sky under the protection of the Three - you’ve surely heard about them by now.”

“Horoa, Suriin…” Firepaw hummed in thought. “And Rokhar. Right?”

“Right,” Spottedleaf said. “After we die, our souls join StarClan - our minds and memories meld together and we watch over the living, giving them guidance where they need it.”

“Oh.” Firepaw looked up at the stars, mulling this over. It was still a little beyond him. “Everyone becomes one?”

“Everyone who’s good,” Spottedleaf said, sniffing at a twig.

“What about the bad ones?”

“They fade away.”

“Into what?”

“Nothing but morning mist, and then nothingness,” she said happily. “Their memories are too tainted for us to allow them to sully the holy spirits with their evil.”

“Uh huh,” Firepaw said. He paused and waited for her to start walking again. “And house cats? Do they go to StarClan if they’ve been good?”

Spottedleaf blinked at him. “Of course not.”

“Why?”

“StarClan is for warriors and seers, Firepaw,” Spottedleaf said with a dismissive flick of her tail. “I’m sure their spirits go where they must after they die, but they have no reason to join StarClan.”

Firepaw said nothing, but thought many things.

Silence passed over them again until Firepaw spoke.

“So what are we doing out here?”

“StarClan told me that you’re going to discover something.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means that you and I will walk around until you find what it is!”

“How will I know when I find it?”

“You’ll know.”

Firepaw looked over to where the moon had almost disappeared. “So I’m just supposed to walk around doing nothing until I discover something?”

“You can hunt in the meantime, if you want.” Spottedleaf sat down where she was.

Firepaw looked back at her. “You won’t hunt with me?”

“Seers don’t hunt,” she said. “Not allowed to.”

“Sounds boring,” Firepaw said. “Sorry.”

“I prefer leaves to mice, anyway.” Spottedleaf turned her attention to her coat and began grooming. 

Firepaw paused, half-waiting for her to say something else. When the quiet turned awkward, he departed, scenting the air with his mouth open. 

Hunting turned out to be a great idea. Even with his still-unsteady stalking, he shortly caught two mice, burying them together as Bluestar had taught him. He was musing over the benefits of just leaving the prey out over getting dirt in their fur when he caught another scent, one that made him wrinkle his nose. It was incredibly foul, a mix of the road near Firepaw’s old house and something sickly and rotting. 

And awfully similar to ShadowClan.

Firepaw darted back to Spottedleaf, who nodded at him expectantly. 

“Go get a patrol,” he said. “I think I found it. Her. The thing- rogue.” 

“Thought so,” Spottedleaf said, standing up slowly. “You’ll be alright on your own?” 

“I won’t engage unless I have to,” he said, stepping backwards. “Hurry, go get Tigerclaw or Lionpelt!” 

Spottedleaf turned around and strolled off, tail waving. Firepaw huffed impatiently and ran back the way he had come, chasing after the scent as fast as his legs could carry him.  


	15. Chapter 12

As Firepaw ran, the scent-trail became sharper. The moment he was out of the woods, he slowed down to a walk and tasted the air. This cat was female, filthy, and unhealthy, and she was much closer than he had thought.

He sat up on his hind legs, looking around him as well as he could. A dark grey, furry shape was just visible over the grass close to the road. Firepaw crouched and inched forward, praying that the grass wouldn’t move and give him away. When he was close enough, he leapt, claws unsheathed.

The cat had no warning that he was coming, which gave him a heartbeat of opportunity when he landed on her back. He made the most of it, biting down hard at the base of her neck. The cat shrieked and stumbled forward, collapsing under Firepaw’s weight. She hissed as the momentum of his attack pushed her onto her side, sending Firepaw’s head directly into the dirt. Firepaw ignored the pain and jumped up, arching his back. The cat quickly rose as well, spitting and snarling.

She was an impressively grotesque creature with a broad, flat face and wide eyes. Streaks of black from her eye to her chin marked her greying muzzle, which was wrinkled and pushed up too close to her eyes. Yellow, broken teeth jutted out from her jaw. Scratches littered her face and ears, all of them scabbed over.

Firepaw lunged with a yowl. The molly reared up to meet him, but was blown back over by the force of his attack. Firepaw clung onto her face, kicking for all he was worth and biting at her head. The molly screeched and jerked violently, striking with her front paws.

But something was wrong, Firepaw realized. Her motions were slow and clumsy. Even he could feel her inexperience. She didn’t go right for his exposed stomach or throat. She was pulling away, trying to end the fight. Firepaw let her go and rolled onto his paws again.

The molly stumbled away, panting hard, legs trembling. Firepaw blinked. He didn’t even feel winded.

“What do you think you’re doing here?” he said, making an effort to sound authoritative.

It took several ragged breaths for her to growl, “What do you care?”

“You’re on ThunderClan’s territory, and-”

“I know that, you idiot,” she said. “Didn’t have to try and kill me for it.”

“I wasn’t going to kill you.” Firepaw unconsciously took a step back. “I was trying to chase you off.”

“Grand job you did.” The hag coughed, head lowering. “Off with you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Looking over her now, Firepaw felt bad for attacking her. Her ribs poked out through her long fur. She was caked in mud with a patch of something dark and stinking on her haunch. Her tail lie perfectly still on the ground. It looked like it was taking all her strength just to stand.

“No,” he said. “I guess you aren’t. Stay here.”

“What did I _just_  say?” she snapped, but Firepaw was already running for the woods. Without really considering what he was doing, he located his buried mice, dug one up, and ran back towards the road. He dropped the mouse in front of the old cat and stepped away.

The hag squinted at the prey. “What is this?”

Firepaw sighed. “You at least know what a mouse is, right?”

She gave him a dirty look and pulled the prey closer. She tore into it with awful crunching and snorting sounds that almost made Firepaw sick.

Silence followed after she finished. Firepaw tried to be subtle about looking over his shoulder for the patrol.

“You know me, boy?” she said finally.

“I know  _of_   you.”

The hag shuffled to lay on her side. “Brokenstar’s told everyone.”

“He said you led the old leader and an apprentice to their deaths.”

She snorted. “He’s a liar.”

“And you’re not?”

“Nope.”

“Well, you’ve convinced me.” Firepaw’s ears slowly turned backwards.

She said nothing to this, just rested her chin on her paws and shut her eyes.

“You’re aware that I’m still here, right?” Firepaw said. “Like, I could just decide to claw you at any moment.”

“You won’t,” she said, eyes still closed.

“I’m just saying, now’s probably not the best time to take a nap.”

“Mm.”

“I mean it. A patrol’s on their way, and they’re probably go-”

“They can do what they want,” she said. “But until they get here, I’m resting.”

Firepaw almost had to admire her audacity. “This isn’t your territory, you know. You can’t just do whatever you want.”

“Ain’t yours, either.” One eye slid open and fixed him with an unsettling glint. “Isn’t that right?”

Firepaw opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “I’m… how d-”

“You’re too tiny to be treading around in this grass,” the hag said. “And no ThunderClan apprentice I’ve ever met still looks like a kitten. How old are you?”

“That’s not your business,” Firepaw said sharply.

“New one,” she said. “Where’d they find you? The Houses?”

“That’s also not your business.”

“ThunderClan took in a kittypet,” she mumbled. “That’s hilarious.”

Whatever retort Firepaw was about to give was lost at a faint set of footsteps. He stood up and sniffed the air.

“They’re coming,” he said.

“Ah.” With great effort, the molly rose to her feet.

Firepaw was careful not to stand beside her as the patrol approached. At the lead was Lionpelt, with a tom called Lizardtail and Tigerclaw close behind him.

“Took you long enough,” the hag said, almost scolding.

The three toms halted, fur stiff. Lizardtail froze in place. “You-”

“My name was Murkpelt,” the molly said. “And by the Laws of Seers, I demand you grant me entry into ThunderClan.”


	16. Chapter 13

It was Tigerclaw who broke the silence that followed.

“You have no right to demand anything of us-”

“Of course I do,” the hag snapped. “I trained as a seer and I haven’t been kicked from my position. The Code still protects me.”

“Says the rogue.” Lizardtail’s tail twitched.

“Oh, is _that_  what he’s calling me?” she said drily. “What else did he say? That I’m a lying, thieving murderer who shouldn’t be talked to or trusted?”

“Something along those lines, yes,” Lionpelt said. “And that you escaped your intended punishment.”

The hag’s already-bulbous eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets.  _“Punishment?_  I left on my own!”

“You’ll forgive us if we don’t believe you,” Lionpelt said.

The hag growled. “You shouldn’t trust a word that little snake says. He’s leading all of you on.”

Tigerclaw turned his head and spoke quietly to Lionpelt. “We ought to get this taken care of now.”

“Hm.” Lionpelt looked down at the old cat. “Maybe so.”

The toms advanced. The old molly crouched again, hissing.

Firepaw’s instincts kicked in before his mind did. He jumped in between them. “Wait.”

Tigerclaw halted, ears back. “What are you doing?”

“I-” Firepaw looked from the hag, who was staring at him, to the warriors, who loomed over him.  _That’s a very good question._

“You better have an excuse for this,” Lizardtail said, eyes narrowed with a false sense of authority. 

Firepaw’s heart pounded, his position dawning on him. He was acutely aware of the four pairs of eyes on him. He gulped, exhaled, and began unsteadily. “She- she isn’t a threat. I just fought her, and she couldn’t land a blow on me.”

Tigerclaw sniffed the air and lowered his head to stare Firepaw directly in the eye. “Fed her, too, by the scent of it.”

“I- I did, yes.” Firepaw took the smallest step backwards. “But-”

“You fed a _rogue.”_  Lizardtail’s tail lashed.

“Yes, but-”

“You gave a criminal some of  _our_ prey.” His voice grew louder. “And now you’re defending her! Do you realize how much trouble you’ll be in once you get home?”

Firepaw glared at him, but he couldn’t articulate a response. Shame and helpless anger burned in his throat.

“Your punishment will be lessened if you step away from the rogue,” Tigerclaw said. “Don’t make us move you.”

“Hold on,” Lionpelt said.

Every head turned to him. He was looking down at Firepaw with an unreadable expression. Firepaw tried to meet his gaze.

As calm as could be, Lionpelt said, “Why did you help her?” 

Firepaw looked behind him at the hag. She was still crouched, but the tension was gone from her body, replaced by shaking. Her fur and tail hung listlessly. The spark of defiance in her eyes was weak.

“Well…look at her,” Firepaw said. “She tried to get away from me when I attacked her. She can barely stand. I just…felt bad.”

Lizardtail opened his mouth.

“Even though you know what she’s done?” Lionpelt said.

“Well- I don’t…” Firepaw shuffled his front paws. “Can’t we at least think about this? She’s not a danger to anyone.”

“What do you suggest, then?” Lizardtail said. “Holding a trial?”

“Why not?” Firepaw could stare  _him_ down, at least. “Shouldn’t we make sure we hear from all sides before killing anybody?”

“Firepaw,” Tigerclaw said. “You sincerely believe a leader would lie to us?”

“He would and did,” the hag croaked.

“Then why do you not have your name anymore?” Lizardtail shot back. “If you’re innocent and you left on your own, why wouldn’t you be called Murkpelt?”

“That name’s cursed,” the hag said. “I abandoned it myself.”

Lizardtail tilted his head to one side and looked at Firepaw through half-shut eyes.

“What are you thinking?” Tigerclaw said to Lionpelt.

There was a pause. Then Lionpelt exhaled. “I’m thinking… Bluestar might want to weigh in on this.”

Tigerclaw blinked. “Just on Firepaw’s word?”

“He may have a point.” Lionpelt motioned with his tail. “Get to your feet and come with us. Do what we tell you to, and don’t try to run. You don’t get a second chance.”

“Won’t need it.” The hag shakily stood up and limped past Firepaw.

“Firepaw, go on ahead,” said Lionpelt. “Alert the Clan that we’re coming.”

“How do I know you won’t kill her as soon as I leave?” Firepaw said sharply.

“Right, because you being here means you can stop all three of us from doing  _anything,”_  Lizardtail said.

Firepaw looked at Lionpelt, who nodded. Reluctantly, Firepaw trotted back into the woods, looking back every few steps at the patrol and their captive, only speeding up when he couldn’t see them anymore. He passed the hole containing his other mouse. Then he paused, backed up, grabbed the mouse, and started off again at a run. Some small part of him hoped that his cargo would soften Bluestar’s anger just a little.

Right, he had given the first one to a rogue.

Firepaw decided to walk the rest of the way home.


	17. Chapter 14

Firepaw wondered what the point of alerting the Clan was when everyone was staring at him expectantly as soon as he stepped into camp.

Everyone, even the elders and the queen in the nursery, had their heads turned to the entrance. Bluestar was already seated on her stump with Spottedleaf and Redtail directly below her. What little conversation there was died immediately. Firepaw felt Bluestar’s gaze stronger than everyone else’s.

The first words out of his mouth were, “Don’t get mad.”

Bluestar shut her eyes. “What did you do?”

Firepaw slunk over to the prey-pile and dropped his mouse. “It’s…more a question of what I  _didn’t_ do.”

“What didn’t you do?” Bluestar said tiredly.

Firepaw hesitated.

Spottedleaf leaned forward. “Are they bringing her?”

“Yes,” Firepaw said. “They should be back soon.”

Spottedleaf leaned back again with a pleased purr.

Bluestar looked at her seer. “Are you inclined to tell me what we’re waiting on now?”

“The rogue,” Spottedleaf said dreamily.

A small brown molly named Mousefur jumped up. “They’re bringing the rogue to camp?”

 _“You_ found her?” said Teaselfoot.

“It was impossible not to with how much she stinks,” Firepaw said, casually glancing Sandpaw’s way. She looked twice her size with her fur puffed out like that.

“And you chose this time to go hunting,” Darkstripe said.

“That was  _before-”_

“Here they come,” said Spottedleaf.

There was a pause as everyone’s attention returned to the entrance. For several heartbeats, nothing happened. Then Lionpelt emerged from the bushes, silently leading Tigerclaw, Lizardtail and the hag into camp.

The Clan erupted with noise - questions lobbed at the patrol, jeers and insults to their captive, calls for a meeting or for action - until Bluestar gave a short, sharp yowl and silenced the crowd. Tigerclaw muttered something to the hag and she hobbled to the center of the clearing. Plopping herself down, she started grooming one of her back legs, somehow unaware of the glares of the cats surrounding her.

“Murkpelt, is it?” Bluestar said.

“No,” the hag said, and kept grooming.

“Then what’s your name?”

“Ain’t got one.”

Bluestar narrowed her eyes. “Then what do we call you?”

The hag lifted her head and squinted right back, ears folded back in contempt. “Anything you like.”

The crowd muttered. The hag nursed her black-stained leg.

“Lionpelt?” said Bluestar, an edge in her voice.

“Spottedleaf alerted us that Firepaw had found something,” he said. “We would have moved faster if we’d known it was the rogue-”

“Why didn’t you kill her?” Bluestar said.

Lionpelt looked over at Firepaw. “Ask him.”

Every eye turned back to him.

“Tell us what happened, Firepaw.” Bluestar gestured with her tail.

Slowly, Firepaw walked away from the prey-pile and towards the stump. He looked up at his leader, then at Redtail, then at Spottedleaf. The three of them waited silently.

“I was out hunting,” he said. “And I caught her scent, so I told Spottedleaf to get a patrol. And then…I went after the scent trail, and she was there, so I attacked her, but…”

Embarrassment made him look down. He braced himself for trouble.

“But?” Redtail prompted.

“But she couldn’t fight back,” Firepaw said at last. “She kept trying to get away from me, so I let her go.”

“You didn’t chase her off?” said Darkstripe from the back of the crowd.

“No,” said Lizardtail. “He went and fetched her prey.”

“You did  _what?”_  Dustpaw said loudly.

The noise started up again. Bluestar’s eyes widened as she stared down at her apprentice. It was Redtail who called out for quiet.

“Explain yourself,” Bluestar said, visibly forcing herself not to curl her lip.

Firepaw looked up at her, trying hard to force out a response, and gradually lowered his head. What could he possibly say that wouldn’t get him in more trouble? 

Someone stepped to his side. Firepaw glanced at a set of huge, golden paws.

“He took pity on her,” Lionpelt said. “And according to her, she left ShadowClan herself. She requested-”

“Demanded,” said Lizardtail.

“Demanded us to give her entry into ThunderClan,” Lionpelt said. “Firepaw requested a trial in camp.”

“You agreed to it,” said Redtail.

“No harm in sorting everything out,” Lionpelt said.

“Fine.” Bluestar stood up straight, tail stiff as a branch. “You.”

“Hmph,” said the hag, raising her head again.

“What makes you think you can order my warriors to bring you here?” 

“I’m a seer,” said the hag. “I left my Clan. I’m given protection in the territories. I can order whoever I want to do whatever I want.”

“Even as a criminal?” Bluestar said. “An exiled murderer, to be precise?”

The hag gave Spottedleaf a sidelong look. “They treat all seers like this?”

“Just you,” Spottedleaf said sweetly. “Bluestar, she at least has the right to argue her case, doesn’t she?”

Bluestar looked down at Spottedleaf for a long moment. Eventually, she nodded to the hag.

With some effort, she rose to her feet. “Brokenstar has been trying to push out everyone who could challenge his power for moons now. He’s started rumors about me and my apprentice - won’t even refer to him with his real name anymore - to say nothing of how he treats the elders. I won’t be surprised if you find them around here next.”

“What does that-” started Mousefur, and jumped back when the hag rounded on her with a glare.

“Continue,” said Bluestar.

“Trouble really began a few moons back,” said the hag, with a dirty look at Mousefur. “Brokenstar started hinting that I must have had something to do with Raggedstar’s death. He was torn apart by dogs near the Carrion, so there was no way a cat could have killed him, but that little brat implied I told Raggedstar to go there that night. Didn’t ever say why, just that I must have done it.”

“And, what, the Clan just believed him?” Lizardtail said drily.

“They’d believe anything their leader tells them.” The hag spat. “Superstitious lot. Refused to believe that it was simply bad timing. ‘Course, they don’t like me anyways, so half of his work was done.”

“What about the apprentice?” said Bluestar. “Brownpaw.”

“Same thing,” said the hag. “The dogs. Curious, ain’t that? No one was saying it out loud, but they were glaring at me plenty.”

“So why did you leave?” asked Redtail.

“I was in danger.” The hag’s back leg wobbled, so she sat down. “Didn’t need a sign to see that. By that time my name was used like a curse. So I left it in the marshes and ran for the Aulmir.”

“Why didn’t you come immediately to us?” said Bluestar.

The hag’s whiskers twitched. “Brokenstar decided to chase after me and blocked off my intended route. I tried to get them to lose my scent, but I just gave myself more trouble than I expected. Those town cats are a right bunch of pricks, I’ll tell you that.”

“And then you went to RiverClan?” said Bluestar.

The hag blinked. “No. Why would I go there?”

“ShadowClan’s scent was found on the border,” said Bluestar.

“Wasn’t me,” said the hag. “I came here as soon as I realized they were still looking for me.”

“Why here?”

She snorted. “Why  _not_  here? Who’s going to attack ThunderClan?”

The crowd took a moment to consider this. Bluestar crouched to murmur to Redtail. Firepaw held his breath.

“Bluestar, you don’t believe her, do you?” called Willowpelt, a pale grey molly. She was standing just outside of the nursery. “How do you know she won’t bring Horoa’s wrath down on us?”

“If he wants me dead, he’ll take me,” the hag said. “Doesn’t matter where I am.”

Redtail whispered something and Bluestar sat back up. “If your story is true, then we are obligated to protect you. Brokenstar said that you could defend yourself, if I recall correctly. Firepaw, did she know how to fight?”

“Not at all,” said Firepaw.

“And if he can beat you, then I sincerely doubt you pose a threat,” said Bluestar.  _“But._  I’m not completely certain of your innocence. Until we can be sure of the truth, you will be monitored and treated as a prisoner of war.”

“That’s fine,” said the hag.

“And…” Bluestar looked at Firepaw. “Since you were so willing to defend her, you won’t mind taking care of her as well.”

Firepaw blinked.

“You will be responsible for feeding her, getting rid of her ticks and fleas, and ensuring that she stays in camp.” Bluestar’s eyes gradually creased with merriment. “Clearing away her dirt and any mess she makes as well. Care for her like you would our elders.”

Firepaw didn’t know whether to sigh in relief or cry out in protest. Clearing her  _dirt…_

“That is all for now,” said Bluestar. “Anyone with concerns should come talk to me.”

She jumped down from the stump and was immediately swarmed with cats. Firepaw wormed his way through the crowd and came face to face with the hag.

She jutted out her jaw, exposing even more of her hideous teeth. “You best do a good job, kittypet.”

“Sure,” said Firepaw. “Do you need help finding somewhere to sleep, or-”

“You just go get me some prey,” the hag said. “I’ll handle myself.”

Firepaw watched her limp around camp and waited until she settled down by the entrance to return to the prey-pile. Greypaw and Ravenpaw ran over from the apprentice’s den.

“That was stupid of me, wasn’t it?” Firepaw said wearily.

“A little bit, yeah,” Greypaw said.

Firepaw hung his head with a sigh.

“Don’t- don’t worry about it,” Ravenpaw said quickly. “You did what you thought was right.”

“Yeah, it just happened to be really stupid.” Sandpaw was seated nearby, staring the three down.

“I can’t believe you’re getting off with such a light punishment,” Dustpaw said, tail waving in delight. “Good job defending yourself, by the way.”

“You don’t need to rub it in,” Firepaw mumbled.

“I think we do,” said Sandpaw sharply. “You haven’t even been here a moon and you’ve already put the Clan in danger.”

“A seer’s not dangerous,” Greypaw said.

“Whatever,” said Sandpaw. “Have fun being stuck in camp with that thing.”

“At least I found her,” Firepaw said. He picked up a chaffinch and walked past the other apprentices, ignoring the four pairs of eyes on his back. 

Before he could reach the hag, Redtail intercepted him. 

“That isn’t for you, is it?” he said. 

“No,” said Firepaw. “It’s for her.” 

“Good,” said Redtail. “Because Bluestar forgot to mention that you won’t be eating for the rest of the night.”

Firepaw sighed again. Good thing he had eaten earlier. 

Redtail lowered his head to speak in Firepaw’s ear. “For the record, I trust your instincts, but we have to enforce the rules. You can eat at sunhigh, if you’re awake by then.” 

Firepaw said nothing. He just looked at his new charge, who was currently biting at something on her paw. Teaselfoot walked by her and she hissed, making him jump.  

_Great. Fun times ahead._


	18. Chapter 15

The next few days passed in agonizing slowness. Firepaw was only allowed out into the woods to make dirt or briefly train with Bluestar before being sent back to care for ThunderClan’s new prisoner. Even though she really only wanted food, peace and quiet, Firepaw was to watch her every movement and make sure she didn’t sneak off. To do what, Bluestar never specified.

Being forced to stay in camp wasn’t entirely awful, to be fair. Having little to do when the hag sent him away, Firepaw took to visiting the elders. They were delighted to have him, even if the big tom with half a tail muttered about kittypets every time he entered the den.

“I spoke for you, you know,” said the molly called One-eye. “When you came here, I spoke for you.”

“You’ve told me,” Firepaw said, trying very hard not to focus on her empty left socket. He repeated himself loudly when she tilted her head.

“You tell him that every time he comes in here,” said Smallstorm, a short grey tabby.

“When he thanks me, I’ll stop telling him,” said One-eye.

“He already has,” said Patchpelt, chin on his paws. He was mostly black, but his chest and legs were thickly patched with white. “You’ve forgotten.”

One-eye considered this. “Well, you can never be too careful.”

“Sure you can.” Smallstorm flicked his tail at Patchpelt. “Ask that grandson of yours.”

Patchpelt just shut his eyes and sighed. Firepaw gave him a sympathetic head-bump to the shoulder.

“He’s doing fine,” he said to Smallstorm. “He talked with a ShadowClan cat at the Gathering.”

“Oh, making big steps, that one.” Smallstorm’s tail tapped the ground. “He might actually be able to hold a conversation with his Clanmates in the next moon.”

Firepaw had learned very quickly that there was no pleasing the old tom. Instead of responding, he asked Patchpelt, “Do you have any fleas or ticks tonight?”

“Heavens if I know.” Patchpelt stretched. All of his limbs shook violently. “Can hardly feel anything with how cold it gets. You wouldn’t mind checking, would you?”

“No, sir,” Firepaw said. He immediately started sweeping Patchpelt’s fur the wrong way with his paw, looking for the tiny hopping insects. It was difficult to catch and kill them, but he couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy the rhythm the work provided.

“You have fleas at your house?” said Smallstorm.

“No,” said Firepaw, squinting at a black fleck in Patchpelt’s paler undercoat. “No ticks, either.”

“Easy life,” Halftail said from the back of the hollow log. “Why’d you leave?”

Firepaw paused and looked up at the elder. “I guess because Bluestar asked me to. I mean, I  _did_  want to-”

Halftail scoffed.

“That’s a fine reason,” said One-eye, with a weak, rusty purr. “Bluestar knew you were something special, she did. We heard Redtail reporting about you hanging around your fence and watching the woods all winter. And I told them they should recruit you, didn’t I?”

“No you didn’t,” said Patchpelt, whiskers twitching.

“I did,” One-eye whispered loudly to Firepaw. Firepaw nodded and continued his search.

“Well,” said Smallstorm, lounging back so his head rested between his shoulders. “A fine job she did indeed, bringing you in. Now we have a criminal living in our camp and eating our prey thanks to you.”

“We don’t know that she’s a criminal,” Patchpelt said gently, before Firepaw could respond.

Smallstorm snorted. “Why else would ShadowClan chase her out?”

“Why ShadowClan would chase out their seer at all is the real question,” said Halftail.

Firepaw blinked. “Do seers not usually get in trouble like this?”

“Never,” said Smallstorm and One-eye at the same time.

“Especially not a ShadowClan seer,” said Patchpelt.

“Yes.” Smallstorm’s eyes half-shut and his voice took on a sardonic tone. “They usually just go white and die before they turn four.”

“Smallstorm,” Patchpelt said quietly.

“Am I wrong?” Smallstorm’s tail flicked in the general direction of the entrance. “I’ll bet you that rogue’s younger than Spottedleaf. Go on and ask her tonight, Firepaw.”

Firepaw peered out of the den at the mound of fur sleeping across the clearing. “No, she  _has_  to be old, right?”

“You don’t know ShadowClan’s seers,” said Smallstorm.

“The poor things age so fast,” One-eye croaked. “Unhappy life over there, they have. ShadowClan drives their seers to madness.”

Firepaw looked back at the old molly, then to the toms. “Is that true?”

“We’ve never heard of a happy seer from the marshes,” Smallstorm said.

“Are they not treated well?”

“Pah!” Halftail said so loudly even One-eye jumped. “They’re worshiped! All ShadowClan cares about is what StarClan thinks. Seers are higher-ranking than their leaders over there!”

“The problem, from what I understand,” Patchpelt said, eyes closed in thought. “Is that there’s a great deal of pressure on them to serve their Clan and be completely accurate with what StarClan tells them. If they make a mistake…let’s just say they can’t afford it.”

“Huh,” said Firepaw. He rummaged through Patchpelt’s shoulder fur in silence. 

“Perhaps that’s why she ran,” One-eye said. “She made a mistake.” 

“Two mistakes that got cats killed?” Smallstorm shook his head. “We’d chase her out too.” 

“She said she’s innocent,” Firepaw said. 

“I suppose we’ll find out the truth eventually,” Patchpelt said. “Find anything?” 

“Oh- no, you’re clean.” 

“Thank you.” Patchpelt’s black-and-white tail waved. “You know, the other apprentices should be as diligent as you are. Sandpaw always leaves at least one flea behind.” 

“It’s probably from her,” said Firepaw. “That’d explain the attitude.”

“Hah.” Patchpelt purred. “She’s just like Smallstorm when he was her age.” 

“I didn’t flounce about because I’m the deputy’s daughter,” Smallstorm grumbled. 

“You had tantrums, though,” One-eye said. “Didn’t he?” 

Halftail made a rumbling noise of amusement. 

A raucous call made Firepaw’s ears twitch. “That’s Murkpelt. I’ll be back.” 

“Not Murkpelt, boy,” said One-eye. “She’s nameless now.” 

“Right.” Firepaw stepped out into the open with a nod to the elders. “See you later.” 

The elders didn’t respond. Firepaw decided not to take it personally and just walked across the clearing, ready for the hag’s next demand. 


	19. Chapter 16

“Yes?” said Firepaw, approaching his charge.

The old cat was sitting up and chewing at her forepaw. She made a harsh noise and jerked her head back until whatever was on her leg came off. Spitting out a burr, she eased herself back down and onto her side. She shut her eyes with no response to Firepaw.

After a moment, he said, “What do you want?”

The hag opened one eye. “I’m hungry.”

“You already ate.”

“You gave me a skinny little bird,” she growled, closing her eye again. “I want a mouse.”

Firepaw’s ears slid back. “When Darkstripe comes and scolds me for wasting prey-”

“He can yank his tail off,” said the hag. “You just do what you’re told.”

Firepaw squinted at her, but slowly turned around and headed for the prey-pile. He rummaged through it, found a mouse at the bottom, and returned, dropping it at the hag’s feet.

“Stale,” said the hag without opening her eyes. “Get me a fresh mouse.”

“It’s perfectly fresh,” Firepaw said.

“Don’t contend with a wetfoot’s scenters, boy. That thing is two nights old.”

“You can’t smell anything and you know it,” Firepaw said wearily.

The hag jutted out her jaw far enough that her tongue poked out. “I can _taste_  still, can’t I?”

Firepaw suddenly lost the energy to argue with her. Lazily, he swiped the mouse sideways and began batting it towards the prey-pile. He was two kicks in when a brown paw intercepted, halting the rolling mouse. Firepaw sighed.

“If you’re going to sit around in camp all day, the least you can do is respect the food we bring in,” Dustpaw said.

Firepaw scooped the mouse up and sent it flying. He followed after it, pointedly not acknowledging the older apprentice.

“You know, that mouse was alive once,” Dustpaw said loudly. “How would you like to be kicked around like that once you’re a corpse?”

“Well,” said Firepaw, pushing the mouse under a squirrel at the bottom. “I’ll be dead, so it probably doesn’t matter what I’d like.”

“Bluestar would claw your ears off if she saw you doing that,” Dustpaw said.

“Good thing she’s not here,” Firepaw muttered. He sniffed around the pile, trying to find another mouse.

“I don’t know what she’s thinking,” Dustpaw said after a pause. “You’re far enough behind as it is.”

Firepaw’s eyes rolled heavenward. He didn’t dare give Dustpaw the satisfaction of asking what he meant. As he searched, he felt a presence approach.

“You need to hunt and pay your debt to the Clan,” Dustpaw elaborated, standing just behind him. “You owe us for taking you in.”

“And  _you_  owe  _me_  for getting so close with that breath of yours,” Firepaw said. He finally pulled out another mouse and picked it up. He walked past Dustpaw and tried not to look at him, which was hard because he had a deliciously offended look on his face. He tossed the mouse so that it landed in front of the hag. “How’s that?”

The hag opened her eyes and made the motion of sniffing at the mouse. Eyes crinkled mischievously, she said, “That’ll do.”

“Anything else?” Firepaw said.

“Nah.” The hag pulled the mouse closer to her. “Leave me be.”

 _Happily,_  thought Firepaw. He turned around just in time to see Redtail push through the gorse of the deputy’s den and called for Dustpaw. He bared his teeth at Firepaw before trotting up to his mentor. As the two exited the camp, Dustpaw said quietly, “Do I have bad breath, sir?”

Firepaw’s tail curled of its own accord. With nothing else to do, he sat down in the middle of the clearing and groomed until Greypaw and Lionpelt emerged from the undergrowth .

“Are you going to come out and train tomorrow?” Greypaw said, bumping heads with Firepaw. “Whitecloud wants to do some climbing exercises, but he said we should wait for you.”

“He should probably just get you two started,” said Firepaw.

Greypaw glanced over at the now dozing rogue. “Right, still stuck here taking care of her.”

“Barely even that,” Firepaw grumbled. “All she needs is food and rest. I have nothing to do all day.”

“You care for the elders,” Lionpelt said. “I hear they’re fond of you.”

“Well, the one I’m in charge of isn’t.”

Greypaw blinked. “Oh yeah. I was wondering, what do you call her now?”

“You were there for the meeting when she was brought in,” Lionpelt said. “She has no name.”

“If she’s staying here, she might as well get one,” Greypaw said. “We could call her Flatface.”

“No.”

“What about Brokentooth?” Greypaw said. “Or Yellowtooth. Yellowfang?”

“Maybe Frogmouth,” Firepaw said. “Endlessgut.”

“I can hear you,” the hag called.

“I’m sure you can,” Firepaw called back. “This is a small clearing and I’m talking loudly.”

Lionpelt gave him a warning look.

“Either way, we should talk with Bluestar,” Greypaw said quickly. “She can at least let you have some exercise, right? You don’t need to be here all the time.”

“I certainly don’t,” Firepaw said. He looked sidelong at Lionpelt. “You couldn’t say something, could you?”

“No,” said Lionpelt. “But you can.”

“She wouldn’t listen to _me-”_

“Who wouldn’t?” Bluestar trotted through the entrance, a small patrol in tow.

Firepaw turned around quickly. Greypaw stepped to his side.

Bluestar signaled with her tail and the patrol dispersed. “Well?”

Firepaw looked at Greypaw, who gave him an enthusiastic nod. “I’d- I want to go out training again. It’s been long enough, right?”

Bluestar narrowed her eyes. “Has our guest decided to stop eating?”

“No, but-”

“Then your work isn’t done.” Bluestar strode towards her den.

“But it-” Firepaw went after her. “It’s been, like, four days-”

“And it will be a lot more,” Bluestar said shortly. “Tend to your duties.”

“Bluestar,” said Lionpelt. “If I may.”

The molly stopped and looked back. Firepaw barely managed to avoid crashing into her hind legs.

“This isn’t your place,” Bluestar said calmly.

“No.” Lionpelt bowed his head. “Your permission, all the same.”

Bluestar faced him and sat down. “Very well.”

“It might be a good idea to take him out on the morning and evening patrols,” Lionpelt said. “He comes back before the rogue has woken up and after she’s gone to sleep. He could do with the exercise.”

Bluestar barely tipped her head to the side. “Is that so?”

“At the very least, he would have no reason to complain,” Lionpelt said. “I could take him myself.”

“You handle your apprentice,” Bluestar said, the very slightest edge creeping into her voice. “I’ll handle mine.”

Lionpelt said nothing. Firepaw looked between the warriors, unsure if he should interject or not.

“Fine,” Bluestar said after a moment. “Firepaw, you’ll go on the patrols tomorrow at half-sun and half-moon. I trust you can wake yourself up in time.”

Firepaw nodded.

“Good.” Bluestar stood up. “Will that be all?”

“Yes,” said Lionpelt.

“I’ll be in my den if you need me.” With that, Bluestar headed for the gorse patch.

Greypaw waited until she disappeared before shaking out his fur. “Was it just me or did she seem mad?”

Lionpelt gazed at the yellow flowers for a heartbeat before responding. “Her apprentice has caused trouble by bringing in a wanted criminal. We’ve spent plenty of resources on her in three days. Now her apprentice wants to get out of his punishment.” He side-eyed Firepaw. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Thank you,” Firepaw said. “Who’s on tomorrow’s patrols?”

“I believe Tigerclaw is taking the morning one,” said Lionpelt. “He should have his own apprentice with him as well.”

“Oh, fun,” Firepaw said. “I get to hear Sandpaw complaining about me the whole way.”

“Assuming she’ll even speak if she sees you,” Greypaw said.

“You’re getting out of camp,” Lionpelt said. “Be grateful.” 

“Fine, fine.” Firepaw flicked his tail. “I better bring the elders some prey. Greypaw, wanna help?” 

“Sure.” Greypaw followed him to the prey pile. “How was everyone tonight?” 

“Grumbly and old, same as usual.” Firepaw snatched up a squirrel and waited until Greypaw fetched a thrush to cross the clearing. “Hey, did you know Smallstorm used to throw tantrums?” 


	20. Chapter 17

It was nice to be outside again.

Firepaw had jolted awake before the night sky had even lightened. Too energized to sleep again, he had paced around camp until Tigerclaw emerged from the warriors’ den. The senior had responded agreeably to the news that he was escorting a second apprentice around the border. Sandpaw, not so much.

“We’ll go a lot faster if he stays home,” she had snapped. “I don’t want to-”

“Bluestar’s orders,” Firepaw said. “It doesn’t matter what you want.”

Sandpaw had curled her lip, but Tigerclaw stepped between them before they could continue.

The season was finally warming up, so the dew on the grass no longer numbed Firepaw’s feet. Life was sprouting all around them; the garlic and chervil and mint created a dizzying mix of smells even before the sun had a chance to shine on them through the trees. At every place where Tigerclaw paused to mark, the treeline ended and gave a perfect view of the sky changing from black to blue to yellow. Firepaw could have hopped the entire trek round. It was a lovely morning.

The patrol made it to the streams near the river before Tigerclaw stopped and sniffed the air.

“Every mouse must be out this morning,” he said. “Firepaw, I understand you’re in need of some practice. See what you can find and join us near the fences.”

“Grand, the kittypet’s going to hunt,” said Sandpaw. “Send me! I can hunt better.”

“Perhaps so.” Tigerclaw lowered his massive frame to look his apprentice in the eye. “But I didn’t ask you. I asked him. Firepaw.”

“Yes, sir?” said Firepaw.

“You have until the sun is free of the horizon to hunt. Don’t stay any later.”

“Right.” Firepaw tasted the air, looking sideways at Sandpaw, who was bristling, but looking away. He caught a trace of vole and trotted after it.

The trees began to space out along the Sunning-rocks, the grass growing stiffer and darker. Firepaw batted at a patch, marveled at the grass rebounding back to its original position even when pressed into the ground. It took the vole’s scent hitting his nose to focus again.

He crouched and crept along, sniffing carefully, but was forced to halt at the border. The vole was grooming its fur out in the open, goading him into crossing. He growled. It jolted and dove into a hole nearby.

“You’re lucky you’re over there,” he muttered. He was just about to turn around when a caterwaul rang out through the clearing. Firepaw immediately straightened up, his fur rising.

Across the river, a pair of brown cats were heading for the Sunning-rocks. Firepaw stayed where he was and waited as the two cats approached, ducking into the river and swimming across like otters. They didn’t even pause to shake their fur out, just kept walking until they reached the border.

Firepaw immediately recognized Crookedstar, the RiverClan leader, but the other tom was unfamiliar. Except for being just barely shorter and having no white on his underside, he looked exactly like Crookedstar.

There was a moment of silence as the three cats regarded each other, Firepaw eyeing the soaking cats. Their scent was similar to the wet food often laid out at his first home. Battle scenarios ran through his mind.

Eventually, Crookedstar purred with a rumble deep and loud enough to shake the forest floor. “Good morning. Far from the houses, aren’t you?”

Under pressure of addressing a leader, Firepaw’s answer was delayed and halting. “You…can tell where I’m from?”

“You give yourself away with that face.” The bulky tom sat down, his half-tail tucked into his side. “But how curious - you smell just like ThunderClan. And I think you were at the Gathering, too. Are they taking in kittypets now?”

Firepaw made himself as tall as possible. “Just- just me. I’m a full apprentice, though. Bluestar’s my mentor.”

Crookedstar made a sound between a bark and a cough that caused Firepaw to jump. “Isn’t that something! I didn’t think she even liked kits. What, did-”

The other tabby cleared his throat.

“Ah, right, right.” Crookedstar shook his huge head. “Well, little house-cat, here’s a warrior’s mission for you. We’d like to talk with your mentor as soon as possible. D’you think you could fetch her for us?”

Firepaw stayed where he was. “You won’t cross the border?”

Crookedstar’s purr returned. “It’d be a bad mark on what little dignity I’ve got to sneak around in the woods. You can trust that we’ll stay right here until you come back.”

“We don’t need to steal your prey just yet,” the tabby said. “Not during the spring, anyway.”

Firepaw looked between the two and slowly backed away. He only turned around and started running when he bumped into a tree.

 

Firepaw kept glancing back at Bluestar. She had kept her body completely expressionless from the moment he had burst into camp and told her the news. There was a purposeful clouding in her eyes and her tail was perfectly still and level to her body. It was impossible to tell whether she was upset or angry or worried. Firepaw had a feeling he didn’t want to know. 

“Speedy little thing, aren’t you?” Crookedstar said when they reached the border. “You’ve got a fast one here, Bluestar. Who’s the other one, Teasel-something?”

Bluestar’s words were clipped and taut with forced politeness. “You have a reason to be here, I assume.”

“So we do,” said the other tom. He looked at Firepaw. “Perhaps… we should be alone for this.” 

Bluestar flicked her tail. “Go back to your patrol, Firepaw.” 

Firepaw started to argue, but Bluestar’s impassive face unnerved him. He trotted off into the undergrowth, curiosity gnawing at his mind. He paused when they were out of sight and made a half-hearted attempt to continue on his way. Then he crouched behind a bush, carefully inching his way into its center, ears pricked. He couldn’t see anything, but the voices of the leaders were perfectly audible from here. 

“So?” said Bluestar.

Crookedstar shuffled. “Rookstar spoke to me.”

There was a pause. A breeze stirred the trees overhead.

At length, Crookedstar said, “He was…  _concerned_  about ShadowClan. And he mentioned that he’s spoken to you already.”

“He did.”

“And you told him you didn’t see any reason to take action.”

“I did.”

The tabby broke in. “We’re aware you don’t care about anything past your border-”

Bluestar failed to suppress a growl.

“Am I wrong?” His voice was strangely friendly. “We always say by the river that it takes a fire to move the forest.”

“Even so, you know Rookstar, old girl,” said Crookedstar. “He’s like you. He wouldn’t say anything unless it required saying.”

Bluestar said nothing.

“He asked for a meeting between the three of us,” said Crookedstar. “I believe he said the morning after this following sleeping night would be the best time.” 

“If you won’t go, could you at least send Redtail?” said the other tom. “Rookstar’s nervous about something and I’m inclined to believe that it’s important.” 

There was another stretch of silence after this. Another breeze rustled the bushes. Firepaw hoped it didn’t carry his scent. 

At last, Bluestar said, “If you would be kind enough, tell Rookstar I’ll come.”

Crookedstar trilled. “Very good! We look forward to seeing you then.” 

“If we don’t see you before,” said the other tom. There was…  _something_ to his voice that Firepaw couldn’t name. An odd, undefinable quality.

“We’ll be wanted back at camp,” said Crookedstar. “C’mon. Nice seeing you again, old girl.” 

Bluestar hummed. “Wish I could say the same.”

Crookedstar made that harsh sound again and shuffled his feet. The footsteps that followed this were heavy and slow. Bluestar waited until the steps faded away to move off again. Firepaw didn’t move a muscle as she walked by him and stopped. 

“You can come out now,” she said. 

Firepaw considered staying where he was, but he had a feeling it would be safer to leave the bush. He hunched his shoulders, awaiting a scolding. 

But, oddly, all Bluestar said was, “Keep this to yourself until the sleeping night has passed.” 

Firepaw blinked. “You’re not going to punish me?”

“No.” An incredibly faint warmth crept into her voice. “I’ve done the exact same thing multiple times. As long as you stay quiet, you were never here.”

“Thanks.” Firepaw paused. “What’s a sleeping night, again?” 

“The night when Suriin’s eye is closed,” said Bluestar. “When the moon is nowhere to be seen.” 

“Oh. Right.” 

Bluestar flicked him with her tail. “I’d hurry back to your patrol, if I were you. Odds are Tigerclaw’s almost to camp. Just tell him that you caught a scent on the border.” 

Firepaw nodded. With a tail-wave goodbye, he took off through the woods. Hopefully Sandpaw wouldn’t make a remark if he had a legitimate reason to not bring back prey. 


	21. Chapter 18

“So we’re going…”

“To the Mother, that’s right.”

Firepaw looked at Ravenpaw and Greypaw. Their eyes were shining. Greypaw shuffled his hind legs excitedly and Ravenpaw’s tail jumped around behind him. Firepaw looked back at Bluestar and Spottedleaf, who were sitting across from the trio.

“I thought the Mother was just from a story,” he said.

“There is no ‘just’ with stories, Firepaw,” Bluestar said sternly. “And there’s no ‘just’ with the Mother.”

Spottedleaf purred. “Once he sees her, he’ll understand. You three haven’t made your journey to her yet, and it’s better to visit before Suriin sleeps.”

“Right,” said Firepaw. “Before-”

Bluestar narrowed her eyes.

“Yeah.” Firepaw examined a pebble at his feet.

“You’ll be leaving in the morning,” Bluestar said. “The three of you will take the night off and rest up as much as you can. I can’t say when you’ll be able to sleep or hunt tomorrow.”

“Not- you aren’t going with us?” said Ravenpaw.

Bluestar gave Spottedleaf a tired look. “At our seer’s insistence, no.”

“Four’s a lucky number,” Spottedleaf said. “And we can handle ourselves, can’t we, boys?”

“Sure,” said Firepaw.

“Sure!” said Greypaw.

Ravenpaw said nothing.

The rest of the night was spent eating, dozing, and avoiding Darkstripe, who was eager to scold the three for their apparent laziness, even after an explanation. At sun-high, Spottedleaf awoke the three apprentices and quietly led them out of camp.

It was silent in the forest - not a blade of grass twitched, no breeze shuffled the leaves overhead. Even the pawsteps of the patrol were muffled. Firepaw sniffed for any sign of life, finding only a day-old scent trail and an unfamiliar denseness in the air.

When they stepped out of the treeline, Spottedleaf stretched her back legs and gazed north at an approaching line of clouds. “We’ll be getting some rain soon. Maybe even tonight!”

Greypaw whined. “We’re gonna have to walk in the  _rain?”_

“You haven’t seen rain yet,” Ravenpaw said quietly. “Maybe it isn’t that bad.”

“Speckletail said it’s like the river’s falling from the sky,” Greypaw said. “That means we’re gonna get wet. That’s terrible already.”

“Well… I don’t know…” Ravenpaw’s voice withered at Greypaw’s scoff.

Firepaw tapped Ravenpaw’s haunch with his tail. “We might have fun, who knows. I didn’t mind snow when I first saw it.”

“You were complaining about how cold it was two nights ago,” Greypaw said.

“I had frost in my fur when I woke up!” 

“Softpaw.” Greypaw’s tail waved. “Good think Bluestar isn’t here to hear you complaining.”

“Is it my fault my fur’s so short?” Firepaw said. “You didn’t feel it because you’ve got enough hair for ten cats.”

“At least you’ll dry out faster if you get wet,” Ravenpaw said.

The patrol passed by the Gathering-place (which felt eerie without a crowd of cats to watch them go by) and started uphill, sticking close to the trees that lined the road. The road itself was wider and smoother than the street that Firepaw had lived at before. He immediately recognized the stink of it from when he had first encountered the rogue and she’d had that black substance on her leg.

Spottedleaf stuck to what she called the foot of the hill, weaving around the trees while the road thundered with life. Greypaw and Firepaw had to walk on either side of Ravenpaw, who jolted and cried out every time a brightly-colored car roared past them and instantly vanished from view.

“You can relax, you know,” Firepaw said. “Cars like to stay on their special paths.”

“You lived with them before, didn’t you?” said Greypaw.

“Yeah.” Firepaw puffed up his chest. “I even rode in one a couple times.”

The other three cats stopped to look at him.

“What was it like?” Ravenpaw asked, eyes wide.

“Kinda terrifying,” said Firepaw. “But you won’t die from it.”

He couldn’t deny that seeing even Spottedleaf stare at him with awe was incredibly satisfying. It was fun to be the knowledgeable cat for once, describing the interior of the car and how quickly everything sped by while the other apprentices gasped and demanded more information. He was careful to leave out that he had wailed the entire first ride and that he’d caused a mess in the back seat on the second.

The sun was low behind them when Spottedleaf pushed through a crop of bushes and stopped. She waited until the apprentices had followed suit before nodding to a pair of buildings, one dwarfing the other.

“The cat who lives here is a friend of the Clans,” she said. “We’ll be seeing him tomorrow morning.”

Ravenpaw looked around uneasily. “Isn’t this WindClan’s territory?”

“We just passed their markers,” said Firepaw. “Unless they like to mess with unsuspecting travelers.”

“Don’t you worry,” Spottedleaf said gently to Ravenpaw. “WindClan knows about our journeys. We’ll only meet one patrol, and they’ll be friendly.”

“How do you know that?” said Firepaw.

Spottedleaf tilted her head. “How do you know to breathe, even when you aren’t paying attention?”

Firepaw didn’t have a response.

“Come look, you three.” Spottedleaf trotted through a small hole in a bush to their right. The apprentices followed after her, Firepaw coming up to stand at her side. 

Across the road was a ridged cliff, bare of anything alive but scattered with stray stones and boulders. The cliff curled around a dark cave and ended with two raised, paw-shaped mounds of earth that were easily as wide as the camp clearing back home. Large, sharp stones stood behind the cliff. They seemed to go on forever into the distance.

“That is the Mother-mouth,” Spottedleaf said after a moment. “We will wait until the moon rises before crossing the road and entering. We need to be silent inside until we reach the Moon-stone. Even then, you three ought to be as quiet as you can.”

“What about you?” said Greypaw.

“When we get inside and the Moon-stone is lit, I’ll tell you a story.” Spottedleaf looked at Ravenpaw. “You’ve already told him the First, I believe?”

Ravenpaw nodded.

“Very good.” Spottedleaf curled her tail. “We’ll just have the one story tonight, then.” 

She fell silent. The apprentices followed suit, each of them trying to occupy themselves with their thoughts until the sun disappeared and the moon was free of the horizon. Without warning, Spottedleaf stood up and walked to the edge of the road. She only halted for a heartbeat before crossing at a loping trot. The apprentices hurried after her once a car drove past (Ravenpaw simply cowered this time). Spottedleaf slowed to a walk, but did not stop and wait for them. 

The gaping hole in the cliffside was unnerving in the dark. The moon’s light did not reflect anything near the entrance. Cold, wet air was exhaled deep from inside. As they walked in, Firepaw couldn’t shake the feeling that he was stepping into something’s mouth. He quietly hoped the Mother wouldn’t bite down on him.

The cats’ eyes were useless in the pitch of the cave. Firepaw had to rely on Spottedleaf’s scent and footsteps to make sure he was going the right way. They walked in silence, turning once or twice with long straightaways in between. Water dripped somewhere nearby in the rhythm of a heartbeat.

They seemed to walk forever before they turned again, and without warning the tunnel opened into a huge den.

It was painfully cold here. The ground was soft and moist, leeching the warmth out of Firepaw’s feet. The walls were wet, just barely glistening in the dark. In the center of the den sat a humongous white boulder that Spottedleaf approached, touched her nose to, and turned to sit down in front of. Firepaw looked at Ravenpaw and Greypaw before hesitantly approaching and crouching before the tortoiseshell, the other two joining him. 

Time passed noiselessly, until the moon inched over the hole in the ceiling. The boulder began to glow white, brightening as the moon inched towards the center of the hole. Ravenpaw gasped quietly. 

“Welcome to the Moon-stone,” Spottedleaf said. Her voice softly echoed around the den, making it sound like someone was murmuring after her. “Every ThunderClan apprentice comes here early on in their training to see our Mother’s heart - and yes, indeed, this is her heart, though it does not beat. What other stone would Suriin’s eye shine upon so brightly?” She lowered her head and whispered to Firepaw, “What we call the moon is the Leopard’s right eye. You will learn more about that another night.” 

Firepaw nodded. 

Spottedleaf straightened back up. “Ravenpaw and Greypaw, you already know that our forest is protected by Mernatha*, but you have yet to hear the story of how that came to be. Firepaw, as a newcomer to the Clans, you haven’t even been told who Mernatha  _is._ Am I correct?”

Firepaw nodded again.

“So-” Spottedleaf’s eyes crinkled merrily. “I think now is the perfect time for you to learn about her. This story isn’t told every time an apprentice makes their journey here, but it’s a very popular one. I’m sure the Mother won’t mind hearing it again.” 

 

*Petalfall in the cat’s tongue.


	22. Chapter 19

**MERNATHA’S PROTECTION**

 

“You’ve heard about how the Mother created all life of flesh and blood, Firepaw. This story is what happened after that.

“Cats were the last to be born, and we were born perfectly - our claws curved and teeth sharp, tails long and eyes keen for the slightest movement. We can hunt in the trees as well as the underbrush. We can climb and leap and track down prey flawlessly. When we fight, we fight with all of our weapons that the Mother granted us, and we fight so fiercely that even a badger is reluctant to come in the way of our blows.”

“What’s a badger?” Firepaw whispered.

“A big black-and-white meat-eater,” Greypaw whispered back.

“However,” said Spottedleaf. “There were other fierce animals spawned before us that were stilted and unsightly. Not only that, but shards of the monsters the Mother slew took form and hunted down their victor’s creations as revenge. The animals born of the Mother were jealous of our beauty and completeness, and they joined the beasts.

“And such beasts they were! Humongous dog-like things that would crush a warrior’s skull with one bite. Cruel ginger creatures that killed cats and stole the body’s eyes for their own uses - these were the first foxes. Things that took on our form, except much larger, and used our weapons against us. The Three were constantly at work, with even Suriin stepping in to protect us. But whenever they turned their backs, a beast would slink in and carry away an unsuspecting cat. We fled back to the Mother, the only place they would not dare to approach us, and prayed for a miracle.

“But there was one molly among us - a beautiful calico named Mernatha - who was unafraid of these creatures. She wanted to join in the efforts to protect her home and community, but she was derided by her fellow cats for thinking a single cat could take on anything but prey. She was berated and punished often for wandering away on her own in hopes of discovering a solution to their troubles.

“ ‘You’re looking to be eaten,’ an elder said to her one day.

“ ‘I’m looking to free us,’ said Mernatha. ‘There’s something we can do that the Three haven’t tried yet.’

“ ‘And what would that be?’ said the elder.

“ ‘Haven’t the faintest,’ said Mernatha. ‘But I  _will_  find it. Even Rokhar overlooks things.’

“The elder scolded her for being so brazen. Mernatha, however, made her brazenness a point of pride, and so was undeterred. Several days later, an idea came to her in her sleep. She sneaked away from the Mother and traveled to the river, thinking over what she was to do.

“By fortune, there was a crow pecking at a snail’s shell by the shoreline. Mernatha approached and crouched respectfully.

“ ‘Hail and well met, my friend,’ she said.

“The crow tilted its head and paused in its attack on the shell. ‘Are you bold or stupid to be out here alone?’

“ ‘A hearty helping of both,’ said Mernatha. ‘If it’s possible, I would like to have a meeting with your folk. Is there a place you all congregate?’

“The crow did not answer at first, cracking the shell against a smooth stone. When the shell broke open, it snatched up the snail inside and said, ‘Travel up the river. You’ll come to a grove of pines with a clearing in the middle within two days. Can’t guarantee anyone will be there, though.’

“ ‘They might,’ said Mernatha. ‘This particular meeting concerns your potential advancement as a species.’

“ ‘Sure it does,’ said the crow.

“ ‘I won’t force you to go,’ said Mernatha. ‘But if you’re interested in no longer being at the mercy of meat-eaters, I would spread the word that there will be a meeting at the grove in two days’ time.’

“The crow said nothing to this, but it looked at Mernatha with interest. She bid it farewell and began the long journey to the grove.”

Spottedleaf paused here for a moment, breathing deeply. Firepaw marveled at how quickly she could change her voice from the airy purr of Mernatha to the crow’s gravelly caw. He glanced at Greypaw and Ravenpaw, who were deeply enthralled, staring at the seer with wide eyes. Ravenpaw didn’t even seem aware that his tail had come to rest in a puddle of water.

Spottedleaf inhaled and began again. “And so for a day and a night she walked along the river, hardly stopping to rest or hunt. A few times she was chased into the water by a monster, which set her back greatly, but she walked on, thinking of nothing but her plans. On the second day, she saw a row of tall pine trees in the distance. Ignoring her exhaustion, she ran until she reached the grove. She finally sat down in the round clearing - shaped much like our camp - and caught her breath.

“There was no sun or moon back then to tell her how much time had passed, but after a long period of waiting, she heard the fluttering of black wings. Crows lighted down in groups, roosting in a circle around her. She greeted them all one by one and waited until the clearing was full before standing up and speaking.

“ ‘You’re curious, I’m sure, about the prospect of freedom from fangs and claws,’ she said. ‘I myself am interested in freedom from the monsters that hunt down my people and chase us back to our birthplace. I approach you today because I believe I have a way to make both ideas a reality at once. It will require some work on your parts, my friends, but only a small bit. I can take care of everything else myself.’

“ ‘And what is this work?’ said the largest crow, who seemed to be the leader.

“Mernatha explained her idea to them. The crows cawed and muttered to each other.

“ ‘That will risk the wrath of the Three,’ said the head crow.

“ ‘Indeed,’ said Mernatha. ‘But a permanent solution is worth temporary irritation. And in exchange for your assistance, when we cats move back to our forest, you will have complete authority. No cat shall harm you, and we will protect you from the mouths of foxes and badgers.’

“The crows talked among themselves for a while longer, and then separated. They flew to the trees and began peeling the moss off the bark. When every crow had a clawful of moss, they returned back to Mernatha.

“ ‘Take the lead,’ the head crow said.

“Mernatha trotted out of the grove with the legion of crows flying over her head. They were luckily met with no resistance on the way back and soon enough they reached the Mother, where the world’s cats were resting.

“The cats were astonished that Mernatha had returned without so much as a scratch on her, and even more so at the black cloud following her. She was greeted with a crowd asking questions over each other, but she simply raised her tail for silence.

“ ‘My exalted associates have decided to help us take back our home,’ she said. ‘And so we are to never touch them or pester them in any way from this day forward. We will not eat them, and we will not let them be eaten.’

“The cats were astonished at this and several protested, but Mernatha simply purred and said, ‘After today, it would be sacrilegious to hunt them, don’t you think?’

“She moved through the crowd with the crows behind her. She approached one of the Mother’s great paws and suddenly tore at the flesh, clawing and biting until there was a sizable gash. The Mother, asleep, did not notice that she was bleeding. The cats cried out in shock and anger, but the crows noiselessly approached one by one and soaked their moss with the Mother’s blood before flying off to the woods.

“Here, the crows’ work began. With Mernatha following and directing them, the crows used the moss to mark every tree, stone and mound of dirt that serves as the lines of our borders, leaving an invisible trail of blood behind. Though the scent is imperceptible to us, the monsters caught onto it immediately. In fear that the Mother had awoken again, they fled the territories, and when they realized that she was still asleep, it was too late. The Mother’s blood is a powerful force - no sooner had it dried than the monsters found themselves unable to cross into the forest, as if the air had become solid like what humans use in their houses (“That’s called glass,” Firepaw said, and Greypaw shushed him). Without the assistance of the much more powerful beasts, the Mother’s other creations were alone against us. Mernatha led the cats back and helped drive out the remaining animals.

“That night, there was a grand celebration. Crows and cats alike sat together and talked, sharing stories. Mernatha was cheered many times and given the first choice of prey, which had grown fat and slow with the monsters ignoring them in favor of chasing down cats. Several speeches were made, including one from Mernatha herself.

“But just as her speech was coming to a close, the crowd parted and crouched, and even the trees seemed to bend out of the way. The Lion and the Leopard approached from the darkness. Horoa’s golden pelt shone like the stars and his mane of smoke covered his eyes so that he did not blind anyone. Suriin’s spots reflected no light but swirled around her pelt like stormclouds, and her white eyes were narrowed. And though he was unseen, the crowd felt the presence of Rokhar in the wind around them.

“Mernatha immediately walked to their defenders, bowing deeply. ‘What a blessing for you to visit us! Are you here to celebrate as well?’

“ ‘You have some nerve wounding our Mother,’ said Suriin.  _‘Your_ mother as well.’

“ ‘That I do,’ said Mernatha. ‘You see the result, though.’

“ ‘Yes,’ said Horoa. ‘You had crows paint her blood on the trees as if she only exists to mark your territory.’

“ ‘Now, my dear Lion,’ said Mernatha. ‘You must have walked to get here. Did you see any monsters on your way? I would not have laid a paw on the Mother if it wouldn’t save many lives and much effort.’

“Horoa considered this, but Suriin bared her teeth. ‘It’s not your place to do our job, mortal.’

“ ‘But it has been done,’ said Mernatha. ‘Does that not please you? Still, if you are unsatisfied, there’s more to do.’

“Suriin growled, but Horoa said, ‘Mother’s blood is not enough?’

“ ‘Better to be safe than sorry,’ said Mernatha. ‘There’s a way for the two of you to permanently watch over the territories and ensure that our enemies know they cannot go in unobserved.’

“Mernatha whispered her plan to them, and though Suriin took a bit more convincing, Horoa immediately agreed. Without another word to the rest of the party, the Three departed, melting into the forest without a trace.

“The next morning, the cats found that they could not stare up at the sky, for one of Horoa’s eyes was placed there. And that night, they stared in wonder at Suriin’s, which gave them more light to see by in the dark. Even the stars that would come in the future could not outshine it!

“Mernatha’s plan was simple enough. All that was required was for the Lion and Leopard to give up an eye each. With that, they could permanently watch over the territories, and with an eye constantly on them, the monsters knew that they could not sneak into the forest without being spotted and immediately hunted down. This is Mernatha’s protection, and it has kept us safe for countless seasons. Now you know this tale, you three, and you may appreciate our borders a little more.”

There was a moment of silence between the four cats. Firepaw was the first to speak.

“We’re safe from monsters now,” he said. “So why do we keep marking the borders ourselves?”

“The monsters cannot cross, but all cats can,” said Spottedleaf. “The Three shouldn’t protect us from  _every_  little problem, you know.”

“Why didn’t she just turn into petals and get to the grove that way?” said Greypaw.

“She didn’t get that power until later, I think,” said Ravenpaw. “When she dealt with a spirit.”

“Oh,” said Greypaw.

“Now-” Spottedleaf stood up and stretched. “I think it will do us all some good to rest a little. If any of you have a dream, you must tell me. Dreams here are very important.”

Spottedleaf turned and approached the Moon-stone. Firepaw watched as she crouched with her head bowed before touching her nose to the stone.

“Now you three do the same,” she said. “Make sure to sleep without touching each other.”

Firepaw shared an uncertain look with Ravenpaw while Greypaw jumped up and copied Spottedleaf’s movements, muttering in pain when he hit his nose against the stone. Ravenpaw was next, and Firepaw followed. Despite the atmosphere of this cave, he felt a little foolish bowing to a rock. He forced himself not to flinch at the iciness of the stone’s surface.

Spottedleaf had curled up with her back touching the stone, purring as though she couldn’t feel the cold. Ravenpaw lay a few feet away, licking at his tail. Greypaw collapsed into a pile of fur and almost immediately began snoring.

Firepaw stepped away from the stone and crouched, facing the tunnel they had come through. He shuffled several times, trying to touch as little of the cold earth as possible, his toes slowly going numb. He did not sleep.


	23. Chapter 20

The morning came, and brought rain with it.

It was a curious experience - the apprentices had only known the soft, white, quiet world of snow. Cold and muffling as it was, snow floated to the ground and sat there in silence until it melted or was trod on by numb paws. The rain, however, was loud, transparent, and dropped with purpose. Firepaw quickly discovered that he couldn’t look up at the sky without being hit in the eyes and nose. He had never been completely wet before, either, and he decided that he didn’t like it, especially without sleep. 

Spottedleaf did not appear to notice this. She stepped daintily around quickly-forming puddles and lifted her dripping tail high.

“And you’re absolutely sure that none of you dreamed anything?” she said.

“Yes.”

“Yeah.”

“Positive.”

“That’s too bad.” She looked across the road to the barn. “Well, I’m sure you’re all hungry. Come along!”

The party made a dash across the road and entered the barn. It was taller than the house next to it, the wood walls bent and warped and faded with age. There were piles of what Spottedleaf called “hay bales” around the door and walls - something like stiff yellow grass with a thick scent that clogged the air. Just underneath it, with some effort, Firepaw could pick out a trace of mouse.

Spottedleaf shook out her fur and called, “Barley!”

Something shuffled on a bale to the right of the door. A black-and-white shape rolled into view, then a head and leg exposed themselves. The face of the cat was worn and hardened like the Clans’, but there was a roundness to what Firepaw could see of his stomach that gave away his easy life.

“Hello, Barley,” Spottedleaf said.

The cat didn’t move. His leg gradually dropped off the side and dangled limply.

“Oh, dear.” Spottedleaf’s voice momentarily lost its cheeriness. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Mm.” One yellow eye opened a fraction. “No Bluestar?”

“Just us today. This is Ravenpaw, Greypaw and Firepaw.” Spottedleaf pointed with her tail to each apprentice as she named them. “They’ve just been on their journey to the Mother.”

The tom lifted his head just enough to tilt it and looked down at Firepaw. His eyes fully opened, then narrowed. Firepaw blinked and shifted his paws uneasily.

“Interesting,” the tom said, almost under his breath. He stood up - he was bigger than he looked lying down - and arched his back in a stretch. “Pleasure to meet you all. Come for a meal before you go home?”

“If you don’t mind, of course,” Spottedleaf said.

“You know I don’t.” The tom jumped down from his perch, landing heavily in full view of the apprentices. He had the look of someone who was supposed to be a little smaller, if not for good eating and exercise. He motioned with his oddly broad tail, sweeping it around to encompass the whole barn. “Go anywhere you like. You’ll find something.”

Greypaw was already heading further into the barn and sniffing among the straw. Ravenpaw looked between Barley and Spottedleaf uncertainly before following. Firepaw stayed where he was, squinting at Barley.

“Something on my face, lad?” Barley said, yawning.

“Are you from the houses by ThunderClan?” Firepaw said.

Barley closed his jaw with a pop.

“No,” he said. “Little past that.”

“Oh,” Firepaw said. “You just look a lot like a friend of mine.”

“Old friend?”

“I… guess so, yeah.”

“Good.” Barley sat up enough to stretch his front legs. “Stay loyal to these ones. Warriors need to stay away from the streets.”

“He lives in a house,” Firepaw said. “And he’s my age.”

Just out of the corner of his eye, Ravenpaw looked up from whatever he was stalking.

“Ah,” Barley said quietly. “I ain’t been near there in many seasons, if that’s what you mean.”

“Just wondering,” Firepaw said. He walked after Ravenpaw and Greypaw.

The barn was overrun with mice (quite literally - Firepaw found his meal by nearly stepping on it). The four travelers were sitting down and eating before Spottedleaf had finished her polite news-swapping conversation with Barley. Firepaw preferred the taste of the forest mice to these hay-fed ones.

“Can’t believe WindClan hasn’t taken over this barn,” said Greypaw, chewing absentmindedly at a tail. “You’d think a place as prey-rich as this would have border markings all over it.”

“It- it _is_ awfully nice of them to let you live here undisturbed,” Ravenpaw said. “Pretty peaceful, it seems like.”

Barley looked at Ravenpaw silently, then climbed back up onto the hay bale and lay down again. Ravenpaw tensed a little and focused back on his mouse.

As soon as their meals were done, they gave their goodbyes and thanks to Barley before heading back out into the weather. On full stomachs, the walk in the rain didn’t seem as bad, even though exhaustion started creeping up from Firepaw’s toes to his legs, to his shoulders and then his eyes. He belatedly realized he was lagging behind and hurried through the hedge after his friends.

This time, they didn’t travel under the trees by the road. Spottedleaf said something about cars and water that Firepaw didn’t quite catch. Instead, they walked on the slope of the hill in silence until Spottedleaf abruptly stopped. 

“There they are,” she said. 

Firepaw followed her gaze up the hill to a dark smudge. He blinked a few times to clear his eyes and focused on an approaching group of cats. Ravenpaw mumbled something nervously.

The patrol joined the party at the border, led by a dark brown tom. All of them were tall and lanky like Rookstar, their ears slicked back. Firepaw oddly found it difficult to look right at their faces. 

“Bad day to be out, miss,” said one of them, a particularly thin brown tabby with a light chest. “You’re heading home?”

“We made it yesterday, but yes,” Spottedleaf said, purring just over the rain. “I’m sorry we went so far into your territory. The rain and the road don’t mix well.”

The dark brown tom grunted. “You’ve been to Barley’s?”

“Just left!”

“Then you’re fine.” The tom jerked his head towards the faintly visible forest. “Go on.”

Spottedleaf crouched respectfully and led the apprentices on. Firepaw didn’t have the energy to look back, even if he could feel the patrol’s eyes on his neck all the way down the slope. 

“It feels like they’re following us,” Greypaw said. 

“Yes, they’re rather good at creating that feeling,” Spottedleaf said. “Don’t worry, they won’t attack us.” 

“Hope not,” Firepaw said, and immediately regretted expending any energy to respond. 

The walk from WindClan’s border to ThunderClan’s took entirely too long - by the time they reached the forest, each of the cats were soaked down to their skin. Firepaw was never happier to be back under the trees, pausing every few steps to shake himself as hard as he could. The forest had patches of dry ground underneath the thickest part of the canopies, only letting a few drops fall through the leaves. 

“Remember to come in quietly,” Spottedleaf said as they approached camp. “Everyone’s asleep still.” 

Firepaw didn’t care. He dragged his feet through the camp entrance, stumbled right into the apprentice’s den, and almost collapsed - but then he paused, looked at Sandpaw and Dustpaw, and shook his fur out a final time. 

Sandpaw squawked and jerked her head up, while Dustpaw growled in his sleep. Firepaw, satisfied, plopped down by the entrance and curled up, not bothering to groom himself dry. He didn’t stay awake long enough to hear Greypaw and Ravenpaw come in and lie down beside him. 


	24. Chapter 21

Firepaw was excruciatingly bored.

It was the second Gathering after his journey to the Mother and after an instance of roaming too close to the Snake-rocks (which may have been on a dare from Greypaw), Bluestar had decided he would stay home as punishment. The rest of the apprentices had gone out along with their mentors, leaving him with nothing to do. None of the warriors left had offered to take Firepaw hunting. Even the hag had told him to leave her alone so she could sleep. And so, with the moon rising behind the trees, Firepaw sat by himself, pulling the feathers off of a pigeon from the prey-pile, trying not to sulk.

Presently, he became aware of a pair of his Clanmates, a light-colored tabby named Goldenflower and a lithe white molly named Frostfur, watching him. He pretended not to see them and kept at the pigeon until Goldenflower approached.

“Is something wrong?” she said.

Firepaw pulled the half-naked pigeon closer to him, trying to hide it. “Nothing. Why?”

“You usually don’t pull apart food like that.” Goldenflower sat down beside him. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Firepaw said a little too quickly. “Just- bored, I guess.”

“Mm. You’d rather be at the Gathering.”

“Well I’d like the _option_  to go.” Firepaw pushed a wing-feather away from him. “Dustpaw and Sandpaw’re going to be all smug about me not being there.”

Goldenflower was quiet for a moment. Then she said softly, “I’m sorry the three of you don’t get along.”

Firepaw blinked and looked up at her.

“They’re very…proud, about their connections to the Clan.” Goldenflower’s tail curled around her feet. “I think you being the leader’s apprentice and having the deputy’s favor rubs them the wrong way.”

Firepaw looked away and pawed at another feather, unsure how to respond.

“But I think it’s wonderful that you, Greypaw and Ravenpaw are such good friends,” Goldenflower said. “Especially Ravenpaw. You know, it took his mother two moons to coax him out of the nursery.”

Firepaw snorted.

“He’s been nervous since he was born. It says a lot that he’s confident around you.”

“‘Confident’ is putting it pretty strongly,” Firepaw said. “But I know what you mean. Um. Thanks.”

Goldenflower nodded and purred. The two of them sat in silence, her watching the moon rise and him gnawing half-heartedly at a wing. Frostfur joined them after a moment and Firepaw silently offered her the pigeon, which she took with a murmured thanks.

“It’s not too bad that you’re here,” Goldenflower said at last. “Willowpelt’s bringing out her kits tonight. This’ll be their first time out of the nursery.”

Right on cue, two kittens tumbled out of the nursery, followed by a light grey molly that Firepaw recognized as one of the cats who had spoken for him. She muttered a weary reprimand to her kits as they wrestled each other into Teaselfoot. Teaselfoot sprang into the air with a shout and scrambled away from the pair.

“They’ve grown beautifully, Willowpelt,” said Frostfur.

“They better have.” Willowpelt sighed. “I don’t think I’ve slept in nine days.”

Goldenflower approached her slowly, purring. “Would you like to rest?”

Willowpelt’s eyes roamed over camp and quickly settled on Firepaw. Goldenflower followed her line of sight.

“We’ll watch them,” she said. “And him.”

After a moment of hesitation, Willowpelt settled herself down where she was standing. She crossed her paws and lowered her head, eyes shut. Firepaw could see her eyelids flicker a little, like she was pretending to sleep while keeping an eye on the clearing.

“What’s the matter with  _me?”_  Firepaw said to Goldenflower.

“You’re not from the Clan,” Goldenflower said. “Outsiders can be a little…  _aggressive_  around kits.”

“Why?”

“Because they aren’t yours,” Frostfur said, gently nudging one of the kittens back towards his sister.

“You’ll have to keep your distance,” Goldenflower said. “I don’t think you’ll do anything yet, but for Willowpelt’s sake-”

“Sure, alright.” Firepaw sat up and scooted backwards.

The female kitten - a dark grey ball of fur with a light belly - skittered around in circles before diving into the elder’s den. Smallstorm snarled sleepily, but the kitten didn’t rush back out until someone else hissed ( _probably Halftail,_  Firepaw thought). She squealed and tackled her brother again. A game of chase began, with the tom - black with white on his chest and feet - taking the lead, tripping over his own feet in his attempt to escape his sister. He crashed into Spottedleaf just as she stepped out from behind the stump, and his sister came after him.

“Cinderkit-” Goldenflower stood up and hurried to fetch the kittens. “Sorry, Spottedleaf.”

Spottedleaf didn’t appear to notice. She was staring up at the moon and walking slowly, as if she was in a dream.

“Are you alright?” Goldenflower said.

Spottedleaf’s response was delayed; she blinked once, twice, and lowered her head to look at the other molly. “Oh. Yes. Thank you.”

“Did you see something?” said Frostfur.

“…I suppose.” Spottedleaf looked back up at the moon. “Yes. I think so.”

By the entrance, the hag lifted her head.

“What’d you see?” said Firepaw.

Spottedleaf said nothing. 

“…What did you see?”

“I must speak to the Mother,” she said. 

“Do you need an escort?” said Teaselfoot.

“No. No. I’ll be fine. This is the Gathering-night.” The tortoiseshell walked quietly past the group. “You’ll tell Bluestar for me, won’t you?”

“Is something wrong?” said Goldenflower. 

“I don’t want to alarm anyone,” Spottedleaf said. “Not…when I don’t know what the ferns are showing me.”

“Your name is Spotted _leaf,_ ” the hag said suddenly. “You ought to know exactly what you see.”

“What would  _you_  know, vagabond?” Frostfur said. 

The hag squinted at her. “I know that even a ThunderClan seer should understand what’s right in front of them.”

“And yet you haven’t mentioned any signs since you’ve come here,” Teaselfoot said, shuffling to avoid the kittens racing past him. 

“I ain’t from ThunderClan.” The hag jutted out her jaw with a nasty expression. “Are your omens my business?”

Teaselfoot bristled, but Spottedleaf shook her head. “No need to argue. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Firepaw stood up. “I can go with you, if you want.”

“That’s very kind, Firepaw,” Goldenflower said.

Spottedleaf shook her head again. “It’s alright. StarClan will protect me tonight.”

Before anyone could say anything else, she trotted through the entrance and out of camp. A silence was left in her wake. 

Teaselfoot was the first to speak. “Wonder what she saw.” 

“Pah.” The hag shuffled and curled up. There was a tinge of dark humor in her voice that implied some secret joke no one else was allowed to know. “If she couldn’t tell you, then it’s nothing.” 

Frostfur narrowed her eyes and grumbled under her breath, returning her attention to the kittens, who were now inspecting the feathers Firepaw had torn off. The female batted at the down while the male chewed on a wing-feather. 

“I hope she’ll be alright,” Goldenflower said. “I’ve never seen her that… far-off.”

“As long as it isn’t the destruction of our territory, I think it’s fine,” Frostfur said. “We’ll see when she comes back.” 

Firepaw wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw the hag’s hair bristle for just a moment, then lie flat again. He said nothing. 


	25. Chapter 22

The moon was far over the Aulmir by the time the Gathering party returned. They were exhausted and frustrated, slinking to bed without much more than a comment about Brokenstar being late and talking forever. Firepaw quickly joined his friends in the apprentice’s den in the hopes of striking up a conversation, but even Ravenpaw hardly responded to him. Firepaw then went outside for entertainment, only to see the Clan dispersing to rest. Sighing, he reluctantly followed suit, curling up by the entrance and thinking about nothing in particular. 

That morning, Firepaw awoke with an unnamed anxiety deep in his gut. He stood up, stretched, and left the den to make dirt. There was no one in the clearing except for him an the hag, who was shuddering violently where she slept. Firepaw carefully stepped past her, eyeing her twitching paws and chattering teeth. 

She was worse by the time he returned - now she was making a half-whine, half-growling sound, and all her fur was on end. Firepaw looked around, vaguely hoping someone else would get up and deal with her before gently prodding her with a paw.   
The hag’s head jerked up with a gasp. Firepaw jumped backwards, expecting a strike.   
“You were having a bad dream,” he said quickly.   
The hag looked around wildly, rising to her feet. “What time is it?”   
“Morning.”   
“Dog-arse,” the hag hissed. She started pacing. “Where’s Bluestar?”  
“Probably in her den,” said Firepaw. “What’s the matter?”   
“That stupid, stupid girl.” The hag stopped and stared at Firepaw, mouth moving silently. Then she whipped around and ran out of the camp.  
“Hey, wait!” Firepaw charged after her. “You can’t go out alone!”   
The hag didn’t seem to hear him. She ran around the corner until she reached the leader’s den, a hole in the gorse patch on the border of camp. Without pausing, the hag shoved her way through the hanging flowers.   
Firepaw caught up just in time to hear Bluestar growl sleepily, “Who-”  
“You need to gather a patrol immediately,” the hag said quickly. “Get to the Sunning-rocks now. You might still have time.”   
“What…” Bluestar shuffled on the ground. “What are you talking about?”  
“Your seer didn’t make it to the Mother,” the hag said. “If you want to see her again, go to the river.”

 

Spottedleaf did not come home alive.   
Firepaw watched, frozen in place, as Tigerclaw and Lionpelt carried the slight body through the entrance and gently lowered her to the ground. She was soaked through her fur, her jaw slack and her wide eyes clouded over, staring at nothing. Firepaw felt sick.  
Quickly, the Clan awoke and filled the clearing. Redtail crouched stiffly by the body and rested his forehead against Spottedleaf’s. Sandpaw stood beside him, uncharacteristically quiet, her eyes unfocused with contemplation.   
“What happened to her?” Ravenpaw whispered. “Why was she near the water?”  
Firepaw said nothing. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t even move from where he stood. Ravenpaw looked at him and gently bumped his head on Firepaw’s shoulder.   
“Poor Redtail,” Greypaw said quietly. “And Sandpaw. Sister and aunt, right?”  
Ravenpaw nodded.   
Bluestar wove through the crowd and approached the body. She murmured something to Redtail, who didn’t respond, and touched Spottedleaf’s shoulder with her nose. Then she turned to face the crowd.   
“Anyone who wishes to help with the burial, speak with me,” she said. After a pause, she wove through the clearing and jumped onto the stump, turning to sit and watch the camp.   
The crowd broke up into clusters. One by one, cats walked up to Spottedleaf, occasionally saying something like thanks or a farewell, touched their nose to her shoulder, and stepped away. A few talked with Bluestar before joining their friends with their heads hung. Willowpelt clung tightly to her kittens, who were silent and looking around in confusion.   
Greypaw nudged Firepaw. “We ought to go up.”   
Firepaw blinked and looked between his friends. Ravenpaw had the same look on his face as Sandpaw. Greypaw nodded and led the way to the body. Sandpaw narrowed her eyes as they advanced, but she said nothing.   
Greypaw went first, making the same motions as the rest of the Clan. “Thank you for your service, Spottedleaf,” he said.  
He moved to the right to let Ravenpaw unsteadily inch forward. Ravenpaw gingerly touched Spottedleaf’s shoulder, said something so quietly Firepaw couldn’t hear it, and hurried after Greypaw.   
He walked up slowly and halted, feet like stones. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Spottedleaf’s face. It was still her - still the pretty, friendly, eccentric tortoiseshell who had brought him to the Mother and helped him find Murkpelt - but now she was as still and stiff as the prey he caught and tossed onto the prey-pile every night. It was hard to gauge what her expression was, with her eyes bulging out as they were. What was it like to spend her last moments choking on water? Was she scared when she died?   
Firepaw’s thoughts were interrupted by Greypaw nudging him again. Slowly, fighting his urges to back away, he lowered his nose to her shoulder, just before her neck. He tried to say, “Thank you”, but his mouth wouldn’t open and no sound came from his throat. He stepped away quickly and turned for the apprentice’s den, leaving Ravenpaw and Greypaw behind him.   
Before he could make it through the entrance, a molly called Mousefur called, “What do we do for a seer now?”  
The Clan turned to Bluestar on her stump.   
“We can sort that out tonight,” said Bluestar. “For now, we should honor Spottedleaf.”  
The Clan didn’t seem satisfied with this answer, but no one offered a rebuttal.   
“Has everyone said their goodbyes?” said Bluestar.   
There was a general, quiet confirmation.   
Bluestar stood up and spoke louder. “I have seen three seers in this Clan and many more in the other territories, and Spottedleaf was far and away the best of them. It was thanks to her that we have avoided several tragic accidents and pointless battles with our neighbors. She leaves no apprentice behind, but her skill and kindness will be remembered by all of us. She will live on through stories of her and through our memories. StarClan is lucky to have her.”   
Bluestar jumped off of the stump and stood by Redtail at the body. Slowly, Redtail rose, his head so low that Firepaw couldn’t see his face. Whitecloud, Goldenflower and Sandpaw joined them. Through some pulling and maneuvering, the four cats lifted Spottedleaf onto their backs and slowly carried her through the camp entrance.   
Firepaw turned again and dragged his feet to the corner of the apprentice’s den, curling up and shutting his eyes.   
Soon, he heard a few cats push through the foliage.   
“Firepaw!” called Greypaw. “We’re about to tell some stories about Spottedleaf. Come on.”   
“I think-” Ravenpaw’s voice was more unsteady. “I think he wants to be alone. Will- will you be alright, Firepaw?”   
Firepaw said nothing. After a moment, his friends left again. Firepaw shut his eyes and tried to force himself to sleep. Staring at nothing made him think of the body, and the last thing he wanted to do was think.


	26. Chapter 23

Firepaw didn’t know why he was here.

The evening air was charitably warm, clotted with the scent of the vibrant, exotic flowers just past the polished white fence. Firepaw listened absently to the metal clanging of pots accompanied by excited human chatter coming from one of the houses. Every light was on, negating the darkness of the sky and the faint white light of the stars. It was an overabundance of stimuli, Firepaw decided, and it was exactly what he needed.

He had walked here on his own, unable to sleep or ignore the noise of camp. Everyone was talking about Spottedleaf so casually, as if she had just stepped outside for a moment and would be back soon. Even the burial party acted like nothing had happened at all. Like they hadn’t seen her slack jaw and cloudy eyes.

Firepaw sat down where he was, examining a patch of clovers. Someone in the brick house to the left laid down a bowl of canned slop. He could faintly hear a cat nudging the bowl around, trying to get every little scrap of food they could find. Who had lived there before he left? Did they ever see ThunderClan warriors marking the borders? Had they ever buried another cat?

Things were so soft here, so easy. The worst thing that happened to him as a kittypet was a trip to the vet. Nobody drowned here. Maybe he would never see a cat again once or twice, but he could at least pretend they were still alive. He didn’t have physical proof that they were gone.

“Rusty!”

Firepaw blinked and looked up just in time to see a chubby black-and-white cat drop from the fence and stumble upon landing. Smudge charged right through the grass, skittering to a stop just before hitting Firepaw. Firepaw jumped backwards instinctively, stiff with surprise. Unaware, Smudge began circling Firepaw, nudging him as he attempted to rub their pelts together in greeting.

“I thought you were gone forever!” Smudge said. “I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye, I was just upset that you were leaving, boy, have you gotten thin - what’s with that face?”

Firepaw’s answer was painfully delayed. “What?”

“Your face,” Smudge said, stopping in front of Firepaw. “You’re all… far-off.”

“Oh.” Firepaw sat down. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Sure you are.” Smudge sat down too, head hanging to the side with a skeptical expression. When Firepaw didn’t respond, Smudge batted his leg with a paw. “Come on then, tell me what it’s like in the forest! How’s cat-meat taste?”

“W…we don’t eat cats,” said Firepaw. “Just… you know, mice, moles. Squirrels and birds. Vole, sometimes.”

“Well, do you sharpen your claws on bones?”

“No. We use branches and trees and stuff.”

“What kind of savages are you?” said Smudge, shaking his head. “Henry’s a liar after all. Oh, have you heard about Henry?”

“No,” said Firepaw, a sudden apathy in his gut.

“He fought with an alley cat.” Smudge puffed up his chest. “And  _I_ saw him myself. He was this big white tom with some black patches like me, and scars all over him. Biggest cat I’ve ever seen!”

“Uh-huh,” said Firepaw.  _What would Smudge say if he saw Lionpelt or Tigerclaw, then?_

“The cat left because Henry’s human came out, I think,” Smudge said. “He says he fought him off, but he’s probably lying again.”

Firepaw didn’t say anything. Something familiar hit his nose. He sniffed the air, eyes narrowed.

“I have to go,” he said. “Sorry. It was nice talking to you again.”

Smudge looked taken-aback. “But you just got back!”

“I know.” Firepaw stood up. “I shouldn’t have come here. I’m not supposed to.”

“But-” Smudge jumped to his feet. “Hey, no, wait-”

“Stay close to the fence,” said Firepaw. “If I’m on border patrol, I’ll be looking out for you.”

“Rusty!”

“I’m not-” Firepaw shook his head. “My name’s Firepaw now. See you later, hopefully.”

Smudge started to protest again, but reluctantly sighed and walked back to his fence. Firepaw knew he couldn’t make the jump back up himself. He hoped Smudge’s human would get him quickly.

Firepaw turned and headed back into the forest. He only went a few tail-lengths before stopping. “I know you’re here.”

There was a pause, then Greypaw and Ravenpaw emerged from the underbrush.

“Sorry,” Ravenpaw said.

“Who was that?” Greypaw said.

“He’s…an old friend from when I lived in a house.” Firepaw glanced back at the small patched tom. “His name is Smudge. What are you two doing here?”

“Ehm…” Ravenpaw shrunk a little. “We saw you leave, and- well, you looked- you were upset.”

“We got worried,” said Greypaw. “D’you want to come back to camp?”

“No,” Firepaw said quickly. “Not right now, no. Maybe later.”

“Okay,” Ravenpaw said. He paused. “So…what  _do_ you want to do?”

Firepaw didn’t answer. He wasn’t entirely sure himself.

Greypaw shared a worried glance with Ravenpaw before stepping closer. “We can go on border patrol. How about that?”

“…Yeah, alright.” Firepaw shook himself and started walking. He stared directly ahead, focusing on the feeling of soft soil on his paws. He hardly noticed his friends hurrying after him.

The three of them were quiet for some time, traveling along the border in single-file; Firepaw at the front, Greypaw behind him, and Ravenpaw at the end. They passed by the Snake-rocks before Ravenpaw spoke.

“You know,” he said, his voice wavering just a little. “It’s never easy. Seeing someone pass on.”

Firepaw wanted to walk faster, but his legs froze in place. He stared at the leaves overhead.

“It definitely isn’t,” said Greypaw, obviously attempting to sound cheery. “It’s life, though. Everyone goes at some point. Friends, family.”

The two were quiet. Firepaw could feel them looking at him. He was supposed to say something here.

“How many have you seen, then?” he forced out.

“Plenty,” Greypaw said. “Let’s see… Sandpaw’s mother, my parents, Spottedleaf’s mentor, though I was really young then-”

“Thymepelt,” Ravenpaw said.

“Right, Thymepelt. Ravenpaw’s mother-”

Firepaw turned his head to stare at the two of them. “You’re both orphans?”

“Sure,” said Greypaw. “Everyone is. My mother met a dog and my father got sick. Ravenpaw’s dad… what’d he die of?”

“An adder bit him before I was born,” Ravenpaw said quietly. “Mother was killed in a fight.”

Firepaw turned around. “That’s awful.”

“I guess,” said Greypaw. “Lionpelt told me it’s even harder outside the Clans. What about your parents?”

“I-” Firepaw said, and stopped. He searched through his memories. “I… didn’t know my father. Didn’t know my mother either, I think. I was brought here when I was really young.”

“That’s awful, too,” Ravenpaw said. “I’m sorry.”

“Can’t be worse than death.”

“Still,” Greypaw said. “I’m glad I got to at least know my parents before they died. Can’t imagine what it’s like not knowing  _any_  of your family.”

Firepaw didn’t know what to think of that.

“Actually, if we can,” said Ravenpaw. “Could we move on? Being near here makes me nervous.”

 _“Everything_  makes you nervous,” said Greypaw. He tapped Ravenpaw with his tail, making the skinny black tom sneeze, and turned back to Firepaw. “Ready?”

Firepaw looked at his friends for a moment longer, then nodded. The three continued their walk, the silence between them just a little less tense.


	27. Chapter 24

“You can’t be serious.”

Firepaw made a half-hearted leap at Ravenpaw, who stepped to the side and lamely swung a paw at Firepaw’s face. Greypaw and Dustpaw circled each other endlessly while Sandpaw crawled in the hunter’s position, stepping on every twig in her path. All of them were focusing on the hushed conversation between Bluestar, Redtail and the senior warriors by the edge of the sandy hollow.

“We don’t have any other options right now,” Bluestar said.

“Mother’s scaly  _prat_  we don’t,” Speckletail hissed. Dustpaw snorted. “We have apprentices and kits, don’t we-”

“The kits are too young and our apprentices are trained as warriors,” Bluestar said firmly. “We would risk StarClan’s anger by giving them an impure seer.”

“We risk their anger  _now,_  Bluestar,” Tigerclaw said.

“And the anger of the Clan!” Speckletail said. “There’ll be riots over this, I guarantee it.”

 _“My_  concern,” Whitecloud said, voice deliberately soothing. “Is the other Clans. They’re likely aware Spottedleaf had no apprentice. If we don’t ask for help with a new seer, they’ll get suspicious…”

“And call us heathens, yes,” said Redtail. “Not that they don’t already.”

“Meanwhile, we open ourselves up to war!” Speckletail said, and checked the volume of her voice when Ravenpaw flinched. “At the announcement, ShadowClan will have every right the code can offer to come after us.”

Redtail narrowed his eyes, thinking. “We don’t _have_  to announce it, do we?”

This was followed by a moment of silence. The apprentices all paused in their tasks.

“The only ones who know she died are us,” Redtail said. “So long as we keep our mouths shut, no one will be the wiser.”

“You don’t think someone will at least  _ask?”_  Speckletail’s hair raised along her back. “What if a RiverClanner saw her body? What if our apprentices say something?”

Firepaw barely stopped himself from responding.

“We’re leaving the trail,” Tigerclaw said quietly.

“Right,” Redtail said. “We have a solution right in front of us. I’d be bitten if we didn’t use it.”

“A nameless prisoner becoming our seer is  _not_ a solution,” Speckletail snapped.

“We should be fair,” Whitecloud said gently. “She’s shown herself to be harmless. And she’s a seer from ShadowClan-”

“Who has a bounty on her head,” Tigerclaw said. “There is no evidence for her innocence. Speckletail is right. We invite trouble with her.”

“Think of it this way, then,” Bluestar said. “We’ve had her for three moons now, and nothing’s happened. Our prey runs thick, our kits are healthy, and it’s been completely peaceful. StarClan would have at least spoken with Spottedleaf if they didn’t want us to keep her, wouldn’t they?”

The warriors were quiet again. Firepaw saw Speckletail’s fur lower just a fraction.

“I assure you, if the sky begins raining fire after I ask her, I’ll change my mind,” Bluestar said. “But every moment we sit here is another moment that StarClan’s eyes are closed to us. Should we not at least have a temporary replacement until one of the kits can take on the role?”

The apprentices watched the seniors’ hardened faces lower, each of them mulling it over.

“I worry the Clan will lose some respect for you,” Tigerclaw said.

“I’ll deal with that as it comes,” Bluestar said calmly. “Do I have your support?”

 

“Hilarious.”

“I’m being serious.”

“I know you are,” the hag said, and Firepaw could practically hear her sticking out her lower jaw in a sardonic grin. “That’s what’s hilarious.”

Firepaw was huddled close to the leader’s den. He had been escorted to camp with the other apprentices and immediately snuck out as soon as Lizardtail’s back was turned. He huddled inside Redtail’s den, hoping that no one came out to look for him.

“I believe you could be a great asset to ThunderClan,” Bluestar said.

 _“Really_  now,” the hag said. “What a fine seer I’d be, not even having a name.”

“That can be amended.”

“Can’t leave camp.”

“You’ll be able to go wherever you want.”

“Brokenstar wants me dead.”

“I’m confident of your innocence.”

“No you aren’t.” The hag’s voice turned sharp. “You’re just looking for a quick solution.”

Bluestar didn’t respond.

“Does ThunderClan want me as a seer?” the hag demanded. 

“They’ll come around to the idea,” Bluestar said coolly. 

"Think so, do you?”

“Redtail agrees with me,” Bluestar said. “The Clan has always respected his decisions.”

“What about yours?”

"They respect me too.”

“Not after this, they won’t.”

“Perhaps not. But I’ve done worse.”

“So I’ve heard.” The hag had that tone of dark amusement again. 

Again, Bluestar fell silent. Firepaw thought he heard claws scrape the ground.

“Here’s the truth,” the hag said, as if she would ever give anything else. “You may have given me a home for these past moons, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to swear my loyalty to you. And I highly doubt anyone will think of me as a welcome addition to ThunderClan.”

“I understand-” 

 _“But_ I know a Clan without a seer can only mean trouble for the rest of us. So I’ll tell you what. I won’t be your seer, but if StarClan sends me a message or two, I don’t see the harm in telling you.”

“That sounds just fine,” Bluestar said, voice warming. “ThunderClan will appreciate your service.”

“Half-service.”

“Half-service.” Bluestar shuffled. “My senior warriors will be relieved to hear this.”

“Bet they will,” the hag said dryly. “I’ll still have free roam of the territory?” 

“I don’t see why not.” 

“Good.” The hag limped out of the den. “I’m going back to sleep.”

“Thank you,” Bluestar said. 

The hag only snorted. Firepaw ducked behind the wall of the den as she passed him. He heard her pause for just a moment, scoff, and continue on her way. Just before she passed the den, Firepaw heard her mutter, “Don’t think you’re off free, boy,” and then she was re-entering camp.

 _We’ll see, you old biddy,_ Firepaw thought.


	28. Chapter 25

The world does not stop for the grieving or the dead, as Firepaw discovered. Before he knew it, another two moons passed by, and it was all he could do to keep up.

The hag’s reception as the unofficial seer for ThunderClan was about as enthusiastic as Firepaw’s induction as a kittypet. Luckily, no one felt they were in a position to argue. Bluestar issued an order of total secrecy about Spottedleaf’s death and the hag’s capture, followed by lifting her containment in camp. Firepaw was charged with escorting her around the territory to ensure she didn’t leave, which they both felt was unnecessary.

“As if anyone with their head right would leave a prey-heavy forest to face some snake and his cronies,” the hag said one moon-bright evening. “You lot don’t know how good you have it.”

“It’s not like we couldn’t catch you, either,” Firepaw said, bringing her a mouse. “You’ve gotten too fat for your own feet. You’d have to roll to get away from us.”

The hag let out a rickety noise that vaguely resembled a purr and cuffed his ear.

Though she was much more crass than Spottedleaf and prone to insults, the hag did not disparage ShadowClan’s high reputation for seers - she was observant and to-the-point, which the senior warriors of ThunderClan appreciated. Bluestar slowly began to consult her just as much as she did the elders, even taking advice on how to schedule hunting patrols (as she reasoned, a cat from such a prey-thin territory would know a thing or two about conservation). And just as slowly, the Clan grew to tolerate the hag’s company, even referring to her with polite respect, though she growled at anyone who used her old name.

Many things grew as spring turned to summer; the nights warm, the mice fat, and the Clan busy. Firepaw could feel his legs and paws growing tougher and stronger thanks to endless days of hard exercise. He couldn’t help his sense of superiority at how little the heat affected him compared to his thick-furred Clanmates, who were shedding and losing enough knotted fur to make nests for the elders and queens. It was gratifying to leave the other apprentices behind during a morning run and waiting for them to catch up, panting (and giving him a dirty look, which made it all the more fun).

One day at dawn, Bluestar called together the Clan. Firepaw sat down with his friends and noticed Dustpaw and Sandpaw standing next to each other in front of the stump, eyes shining. Tigerclaw and Redtail sat on either side of the stump, their faces impassive. Bluestar was standing too, looking down at the apprentices with a hint of affection.

“It’s time for these fine young cats to become warriors,” she said to the crowd. “Their mentors have taught them everything a warrior should know, and they’ve demonstrated the discipline and spirit that a ThunderClan member should aim to attain.”

“Not the temper, though,” Greypaw whispered to Firepaw.

“Dustpaw, step forward,” Bluestar said.

The tom did so, almost bouncing on his toes.

“Do you promise to uphold the Code and protect your Clan, even at the cost of your life?” Bluestar said.

“I do,” Dustpaw replied solemnly. His tail twitched excitedly. 

“Then by the powers StarClan has granted me, I give you your warrior name. From this moment, you will be known as Dustpelt. ThunderClan honors your dedication to the rules and your duties.”

Redtail stood up and approached Dustpelt, touching his nose to the young warrior’s shoulder with a murmured “well done”. For a moment, he looked proud, before returning to his spot and resuming his stoicism.

“Now you, Sandpaw,” Bluestar said.

Sandpaw, head high, replaced Dustpelt, who backed away to his original position.

“Do you, too, promise to uphold the Code and protect your Clan, even at the cost of your life?”

“I do,” Sandpaw said, an “of course” implied in her tone.

“Then I give you your warrior name. From this moment, you will be known as Sandstorm. ThunderClan honors your energy and spirit.”

“Not that there’s much else to compliment her on,” Firepaw whispered. Ravenpaw gently whapped him with his tail.

Tigerclaw met his apprentice now, but his expression didn’t change throughout the motions. He silently stepped away again and sat down. Bluestar now jumped down and touched the top of the new warriors’ heads with her nose.

“The two of you will hold vigil at the border,” she said. “Choose where you wish to go, but do not sit together. Remember that only an emergency should break your silence.”

The two nodded and crouched respectfully. Then they turned and walked for the entrance. The crowd parted, chanting loudly, “Dustpelt! Sandstorm! Dustpelt! Sandstorm!”

“How do you like that?” Firepaw said.  _“I_ didn’t get cheered for.”

“Ravenpaw did,” said Greypaw, whiskers twitching. 

Ravenpaw shuffled and lowered his head.

“What happened?” said Firepaw.

“I got startled and ran back into the nursery,” Ravenpaw mumbled.

Firepaw coughed and looked away, choking back his amusement.

With the new warriors out and on their way to the borders, the camp settled and the Clan parted ways to sleep. The apprentice’s den seemed so much larger with only three inhabitants. Firepaw stretched out in the center and rolled onto his back, purring. The warmth of the evening and the faded excitement quickly lulled him into an easy, dreamless sleep. 


	29. Chapter 26

Firepaw was jolted awake by a yowl - a long, low call, the sort a cat in pain and panic would use, repeated again and again over the cries of the birds in the daylight.

Firepaw quickly rose and exited the apprentices’ den, unaware of Greypaw and Ravenpaw waking up behind him. Warriors were already out in the clearing, some of them moving to stand in front of the elders’ den and the nursery. Firepaw made his way around the side of the growing crowd to the camp entrance. The cries got closer and closer. Firepaw unsheathed his claws, ready for trouble.

Dustpelt exploded out of the gorse, panting. He stumbled to a stop just before he ran into Mousefur, who drew back in alarm, along with the rest of the Clan. Gasping, Dustpelt managed, “Where’s…Bluestar?”

“In her den, I think,” Mousefur said.

“What happened?” Goldenflower said. “Are we in danger?”

“Cat…road…” Dustpelt shook his head and coughed. “Chased…”

“What’s going on?”

Dustpelt turned around as Bluestar and Redtail entered camp. Both of their tails were stiff, though their faces were carefully masked.

“On the road…” Dustpelt coughed again and swallowed air. “Patrol chased a… chased a cat…on the road…”

“Is the patrol still there?” Bluestar said.

“Think so…left to warn you. But…”

“What patrol?”

Firepaw was pushed out of the way by the hag. “What patrol did you see?”

Dustpelt stared at her, breathing heavily. “Didn’t know… looked like loners. Some…some small cats too, I-”

“Were they really loners?” The hag stepped closer, almost in Dustpelt’s face. “Where were they?”

“Murkpelt,” Bluestar said sharply.

The hag didn’t seem to hear. She moved forward again, making Dustpelt back up.  _“Where did you see them, boy?”_

Dustpelt gasped, swallowed and exhaled, his voice steadying. “Over the road. By the Snake-rocks.”

“Did they look like they were going to cross?” said Bluestar.

Dustpelt nodded. “The cat- the one they were chasing… she was hit. They kept coming.”

The Clan collectively drew in a sharp breath.

“How many were there?” said Bluestar.

“ _Bel_ *,” said Dustpelt.

“Right,” said Bluestar. “My senior warriors, Teaselfoot and Darkstripe, come with me. Redtail, stay here, and Dustpelt, lead the way. We’ll investigate this.”

“I’m coming with you,” said the hag.

“No you aren’t,” said Bluestar.

“If this is what I think it is, I am.”

But Bluestar shook her head. “We can’t risk anyone seeing you with us.”

The hag had no time to respond; Bluestar turned back and ran through the entrance, her warriors behind her. The Clan broke into groups of three or four to whisper about the situation. 

“Everyone stay in camp,” Redtail said. “Return to your dens if you like- no, you’re staying here.”

He jumped in front of the entrance to block the hag from leaving.

“Let me through,” she growled.

“Bluestar gave you an order,” Redtail said calmly.

“Listen here, you-

“What’s the problem?” Firepaw said.

The hag turned her head to look at him. Every hair on her body was raised and her tattered ears were flat on her head.

“Those loners are the problem,” she said. “If they’re who I think they are-”

“You think that ShadowClan might be under attack?” Redtail said.

“They’d deserve it,” she said, and tried to shuffle past Redtail. He, being much bigger and stronger, simply herded her backwards.

“It’ll do you well to explain yourself,” Redtail said.

The hag made a snarling sound and stepped backwards. “I need to know who they are and who they were chasing.”

“Why?”

“Because if Brokenstar’s allowing loners on ShadowClan territory, then he’s got a very bad plan.”

“How do you know that?”

“I lived with the fool his whole life! You think I don’t know when he’s up to something?”

“And can you tell me what this plan is, exactly?”

“No.” The hag’s hair gradually lowered. “I have an idea…”

“But you can’t say for sure,” Redtail said. “With all due respect, I don’t think you seeing the group yourself is necessary. Our patrol will report back and give you the full details. Won’t that suffice?”

“No.”

“Unfortunately, that’s all you’ll get.” Redtail blinked slowly, offering silent sympathy. “We’re all anxious to hear from them-”

“Send someone for me,” the hag said.

“I can’t do that.”

“Oh yes you can.”

“I _won’t_  do that. Not until Bluestar requests so.”

Firepaw stepped up to the hag’s side. “They’ll be back soon, I bet. We just have to wait.”

The hag muttered something vulgar and stalked away, bristling again. She wove between the groups of talking cats, tail lashing and head lowered like she was looking for someone to bite.

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Redtail said to Firepaw. “You should get some more rest.”

“You can’t expect me to sleep  _now,”_  Firepaw said.

“Just thought I’d offer.” Redtail sat down where he was, watching the hag storm around the clearing.

She was still pacing as the sun reached its highest point and crawled back down in the south. By then, all but a few cats had retired to their nests, and the remaining were yawning between breaths. Firepaw marveled at Redtail’s ability to stay alert without so much as slouching. The hag also hadn’t tired at all - if anything, she was more aggravated than before. 

Finally, Firepaw heard footsteps approaching camp. He and the rest of the awake joined Redtail at the entrance as the patrol led by Bluestar returned. Dustpelt wasn’t with them - he must have returned to his vigil.

“What’s the news?” Redtail said. 

“The patrol was gone by the time we got there,” Bluestar said quietly. “We could smell them by the tunnel under the road, but nothing in our territory.”

“What about the dead cat?” said the hag, shoving her way to the front. “Who was it?” 

“A light yellow molly,” said Teaselfoot. “Smaller than your usual. She looked… well, she smelled like a queen, over the blood.”

“We can discuss this tonight,” said Bluestar. “For now, everyone should sleep. We’re not in any discernible danger.” 

The hag, surprisingly, didn’t argue. She slowly returned to her sleeping place, eyes cloudy and distant. She sat down, but didn’t curl up. 

Firepaw looked at Redtail, who was speaking with Bluestar, before slowly approaching the hag. “Are you alright?” 

“Idiots,” the hag mumbled. “The whole lot of them, idiots.”

“What’s-”

“Leave me be.” The hag eased herself onto the ground. “Go.”

Firepaw didn’t budge. “Look, if you want, we can talk-”

The hag growled. Oddly, the rest of her body didn’t give away the usual annoyance. Firepaw narrowed his eyes in thought. 

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll see you at dusk.” 

He returned to the apprentice’s den and huddled down just inside of it, watching the hag from between two branches. The remaining awake warriors disappeared into the warriors’ den while Bluestar and Redtail talked for a while more before heading off to their nests. 

When everything was perfectly still, the hag got up. Shaking the dust from her fur, she silently slunk out of camp. Firepaw jumped up and left his den, looked around camp to make sure someone else hadn’t gotten the same idea, and followed after her as quietly as he could.

 

*Five to eight; a vague number. 


	30. Chapter 27

The hag moved quickly, passing through the bushes of the forest without pausing or slowing down. Firepaw tried to follow her path but nearly gave himself away by rustling a few ferns, so he took the cleanest trail and kept track of her by scent as they went in a straight line for the road.

When the hag stopped, Firepaw ducked into a thick patch of grass, lying as flat as he could. He watched her climb up the gravelly dirt to stand on the side of the road. She was looking at something Firepaw couldn’t see.

A car roared in the distance. The hag made no motion that she heard it.

Carefully, Firepaw approached. The hag’s ears twitched when he kicked a pebble, but she didn’t look his way, even when he came to stand by her side.

Across the road was the body of a cat, twisted and crushed, a dark, shining smear from its side on the stinking black stone. Firepaw immediately turned his head and fought back the urge to vomit at the stench. He instead focused on the hag, who was staring at the body with a far-off expression. It occurred to him belatedly that this must have been her Clanmate. He tried to think of some comforting words.

The car was now visible on the horizon. Firepaw gently nudged the hag and scooted down and away from the road. After a heartbeat, she followed him.

“Who was that?” Firepaw said. He winced at how loud his voice was in the awkward silence.

The hag turned to the road again and stared for a long, long moment before saying tautly, “Dawncloud. Queen.”

“Oh.” The image of an orphaned litter of kittens flashed through Firepaw’s mind. “That’s… I’m sorry.”

The hag didn’t respond. She just sat down, tail twitching pensively. The car raced by them, stirring the grass and their fur.

Firepaw stood still, watching her and occasionally shaking his head to clear the body out of his memory. When it was clear the hag wasn’t going to speak on her own, he said, “What are you thinking about?”

The hag’s eyes narrowed.

“Is it the loners?” Firepaw said. “I didn’t know they would act like that. I thought they were nice, like Barley.”

The hag looked up at him and bristled. “You’ve been a Clan cat for moons now. You should know better.”

“Well, it’s not like I get to see them all the time!” Firepaw protested, and then checked himself. “I’ve never seen this group before. I wouldn’t know any better, would I?”

“No,” the hag said under her breath. “Suppose not.”

She stood up.

“Come on.”

“Ready to go back?” Firepaw said.

“You can if you like,” the hag said. “I have work to do.”

“What kind of work?”

“Dawncloud wasn’t flighty.” The hag started walking. “If she was running from whatever servants Brokenstar’s got with him now, that means someone else already tried the same thing.”

“So-” Firepaw trotted after her. “What, you think more of your old Clanmates are around here?”

“Where else would they go?” the hag said. “The town’s full enough as it is. Can’t catch fish, couldn’t get past the border if they wanted to. The barn’s taken. Nobody goes north.”

“And we’d smell them if they were in the forest,” Firepaw said.

“So.”

“So that leaves…the houses?”

The hag nodded curtly. 

Firepaw looked back the way they had come. “Maybe we should get help.”

“Not ‘til something comes up,” the hag said. “And you ain’t got to follow me.”

“Bluestar’ll yell at me if I don’t,” Firepaw said. “Can we at least be quick?”

“Don’t rush me,” the hag snapped. “We’ve got time before everyone wakes up.”

“You get the blame if something happens,” Firepaw said.

The pair settled into a loping gait - something like jogging, only with longer strides and rocking motions - and went south. They were silent the entire way, Firepaw with his nose in the air and the hag with her mouth open. They passed by the Snake-rocks, reached the white fences, and slowed to inspect the area carefully.

“Bet you miss this place,” the hag said, poking her head through a loose board.

Firepaw started to say “no”, but stopped. Truthfully, he had no idea how he felt about the houses. He decided to ruminate on this another day, when he didn’t have to rush to the hag and make sure she didn’t get stuck in the fence.

The sun was nearly gone before Firepaw finally caught something - a rather unpleasant smell, remarkably similar to the hag’s (though way nicer than when he had first found her). He motioned with his tail to her and followed it as well as he could. He only turned one corner before catching sight of a pair of grey cats huddled together.

“Is that them?” he whispered.

The hag paused for just a heartbeat. Then she stalked past him with her head low and tail straight out behind her.

One of the cats, an incredibly frail-looking pale grey molly smaller than Firepaw, caught sight of them and sat up, already-large eyes stretched even wider. _“Murkpelt?”_

“Nope,” said the hag. 

The other one, a mottled old grey tom, bristled and scrambled to his feet. “Don’t- don’t come any close-”

“You’re thinner than usual,” the hag said to him. “Hungry?”

The tom looked taken aback. “What?”

The hag coughed out a scornful noise. “You’re not deaf. Are - you - hungry?”

The ShadowClan cats looked at each other, then at the hag, then at Firepaw.

“We- I could stand to eat,” the molly said, just above a whisper.

“Mm.” The hag looked at Firepaw. “Go on, then.”

It took Firepaw a moment to realize what she was asking. He then turned around and ran back for the woods, killed the first thing he could find - a pigeon - and hastily brought it back. The two cats gave him a curious look, but took the bird gratefully and began tearing at it as soon as he set it down.

“You think that’s enough?” the hag said, incredulous. “There’s two cats here, you gnat-headed-”

“I’ll get more if they ask,” Firepaw said. “Relax. Let them finish that first.”

The hag grumbled something and watched the pair. They ate almost as poorly as she did - barely contained snorting and gulping, scarfing down even the feathers and bones. There was nothing left but a few drops of blood and loose down when they finished.

“Need more?” Firepaw said.

The molly shook her head. “That was plenty, thank you… who are you?”

“And what are you doing with  _her?”_ the tom said.

“I’m Firepaw, a ThunderClan apprentice,” Firepaw said.

The tom scoffed.

“I  _am,”_  Firepaw said, a little angrier than he would have liked. “And I’m supposed to-”

“He’s a newcomer,” the hag said. “What are you two doing here? Was Dawncloud with you?”

“Dawncloud?” the molly said, blinking. “No. We- the two of us left together.”

The hag squinted. “Why’d you leave?”

“Because Brokenstar made us,” the tom said. “Not that it should matter to  _you.”_

The hag’s lip curled.

“He said that any cat who couldn’t pull their weight couldn’t stay and leech off of everyone else.” The molly crouched, looking at the ground. “Nightpelt became a warrior again, but we couldn’t keep up, so…”

“And what about the loners?” the hag said.

“Why should we tell you anything?” the tom growled. “You’re a dead cat. I shouldn’t even be talking to you.” 

“Too bad,” the hag said. “I’m all you got.” 

“You can talk to me,” Firepaw said. “What’s happening?” 

The tom didn’t even look his way. “You’re a criminal. A murderer! And you think you can just walk up and talk to us like nothing happened? We saw the bodies, M- rogue!”  

The hag snarled. “Are you seriously stupid enough to believe that brat? You saw what he wanted you to see, and look where that got you.” 

“Hey-” Firepaw said, looking between the two aged cats. The tom arched his back, hissing, and the hag glared at him and growled. Before Firepaw could say another word, the hag closed in on the tom, lifted her paw, and swung.


	31. Chapter 28

The tom’s hiss died off immediately when the hag gently bopped him on the head and stepped back, eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“You’d think exile would make you a little smarter,” she said, in that same scolding tone as she had with the first ThunderClan patrol that found her. “Even Oakpaw could tell you I’m innocent.”

The tom stirred at this. “You wo-”

“And if you’re exiled,” the hag said, “you’re no better than me. At least I left on my own rather than sitting around waiting for Brokenstar to chase me out.”

“He did chase you out,” the molly said. 

“After I left by myself.”

“Don’t have a name,” the tom muttered.

“That was on my own too.” The hag sat down.

The pair of elders exchanged looks, but neither of them denied it.

“Now,” said the hag. “Tell me what’s been happening. Clan destroyed yet?”

“Not…quite,” the molly said. “There’s an awful lot of town cats and loners coming in…”

“They scare off what little prey we have and mark everywhere but the borders,” the tom growled after a moment. His thin paws flexed, digging his claws into the soft earth. “A few of them have even been given names. Names! As if they’ve earned it. They don’t even live in ShadowClan!”

“Do you remember that big fellow that always came around?” the molly said to the hag. “Boulder? He’s Bouldernose now. He has Rainpaw as his apprentice.”

“Where’s Rainpaw’s old mentor?” said the hag.

The molly looked down. “Littlethroat was demoted when he challenged Blackfoot.”

“‘Challenged,’” the tom muttered, pulling grass out of his claws with his teeth. He glared at the ground, avoiding the hag’s eyes. “He tried to speak up for Running- Fogcloud.”

The hag’s tail went still. “And how’s my apprentice?”

“He tries,” the molly said, downcast. “But StarClan’s been rejecting him.”

“That’s foolishness.” The hag’s fur rose along her back. “Fogcloud is a very capable seer. Did Brokenstar tell you he’s been rejected?”

“Yes, but-”

“Then you know it isn’t true.” The hag’s tail now lashed. “Brokenstar’s never liked him, and now that I’m not there, he can bully the poor sod all he likes. And I assume that’s exactly what he’s been doing?”

The elders said nothing to this. They both looked deep in thought.

Firepaw took the opportunity to speak up. “Some loners chased a queen onto the road today. Do you know anything about that?”

The molly looked up quickly. “Which queen?”

“Dawncloud,” the hag said quietly. “She was hit by a car.”

The molly looked stricken herself. Her ears went flat and her eyes slowly turned downward. She shrank into herself with a grieved exhale. The tom shut his eyes and leaned into the molly comfortingly.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Firepaw said. He regretted bringing it up.

The four cats had a moment of silence, before the hag said, “How long have you been out here?”

“Only a few days,” the tom said.

“Did Dawncloud say anything notable before that?”

“She… indicated that she wasn’t happy with how things were going,” the molly said softly. “But I didn’t think anything of it.”

“Then she must have tried to run,” the hag said. “Anything else happen since I left?”

“Since you  _escaped,”_  the tom grumbled.

“Ashfur,” the molly said.

“We still don’t have any reason to believe you over Brokenstar,” Ashfur said to the hag.

The hag snorted. “Other than Brokenstar exiling anyone with authority and calling you  _leeches.”_

“…Well, you’ve heard everything, at any rate,” Ashfur said, shuffling to tuck his legs underneath him. “And what do you plan to do with all of it?”

“The obvious!” said Firepaw. “I can talk to Bluestar and get help to feed you two and do something about-”

The tom scoffed, wide ears sliding back.

“He hasn’t been a Clan cat long, obviously,” the hag said drily.

“What?” Firepaw looked at her. “They’ll help. Redtail will-”

“The thought’s appreciated,” the molly said gently. “But we’ll be alright.”

“But you can come to camp with us-”

“Right,” Ashfur said under his breath.

“What?!” Firepaw took a step forward, trying (and failing) to not bristle. “What’s the problem?”

“Asking for charity from ThunderClan,” the hag said. “You ought to know that the forest doesn’t budge for anyone.”

“That’s-”

“Bluestar had a meeting a few moons ago with the other leaders,” the hag said. “And where did that go? All she said to me is that it’s ‘not our problem’.”

Firepaw started to argue and stopped. He had completely forgotten about the secret meeting. Bluestar hadn’t even spoken a word of it since that initial chat at the border.

“ThunderClan isn’t concerned with anyone or anything past its borders,” the hag said. “The best you’ll do is get in trouble for sneaking out and feeding outsiders. Again.”

“Wait,” said Ashfur. “What was that about Bluestar?” 

The hag froze. Firepaw got an idea. 

“Oh, nothing,” he said loftily. “She’s-” he tilted his head at the hag “-just been living in ThunderClan ever since she was exiled, that’s all.” 

Ashfur stared. The molly blinked. 

“What are you doing?” the hag hissed. 

“Well, now they know too much, don’t they?” Firepaw curled his tail. “We can’t just leave them out here. What if Brokenstar comes to get them and they tell him?” 

The hag opened her mouth as if she was about to shout at him, but the spark of realization came into her eyes. She nodded slowly, looking almost impressed. “Haven’t a choice, I suppose.” 

“Gotta protect ThunderClan’s secrets,” Firepaw said. He looked back at the elders. “We’ve got some more prey at camp, if you’re interested.” 

The elders’ eyes lit up. 


	32. Chapter 29

The evening light made Bluestar look almost beastly.

She was standing atop the meeting stump, the sun positioned so that she cast a shadow over Firepaw and his entourage. Her back was arched, every hair on it standing straight, while her claws dug into the edges of the dead wood. Fury burned in her eyes and curdled her regal face. Even with the clear effort to keep her muzzle unwrinkled, her ears were pinned to her head and her teeth kept flashing out as she spoke.

“I think,” she said, in a dangerously calm voice, “that you had better explain yourself.”

Firepaw looked to the hag at his side for support. She was squinting up at the leader and her tail occasionally swished from one flank to another, but she was otherwise calm. The elders behind them were huddled together like scolded apprentices, looking even tinier against the backdrop of the giant, long-haired masses surrounding them.

“I’m not sure how much more I _can_  explain,” Firepaw said carefully. He was trying to keep his own ears straight and relaxed, even though he wanted very much to cower with the elders. “They needed our help, so we brought them here.”

“You sneaked out of camp,” Bluestar said. Every word was enunciated slowly and accompanied by the twitch of an ear or her tail. “You left our borders without permission or supervision. Then you fed outsiders with our prey supply-”

“Again!” Lizardtail called.

“-and you shared an important secret with these strangers.” The wood chipped under her claws. “Did it not occur to you that they could be spies?”

Firepaw blinked. He hadn’t even thought about that.

“Did it never occur to you that _I_ might be a spy?” the hag said sharply. “Under that logic-”

“I wouldn’t have given you a watcher otherwise,” Bluestar said. Her eyes did not leave Firepaw. 

“An  _apprentice,_  which-”

“Stand down,” Bluestar growled.

Surprisingly, the hag shut her jaw with a snap and sat down.

“Firepaw.” Bluestar’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Speak.” 

Firepaw glanced around him again, vainly hoping for someone to help him. Everyone in camp looked uncomfortable or annoyed. Even Greypaw and Ravenpaw, who were standing in perfect view on the side of the crowd, didn’t quite meet his eyes. Redtail, sitting in his usual place, only watched him emotionlessly.

“I…” Firepaw breathed in, gathered up all his nerve, and spoke as levelly as he could. “Well- we’re supposed to take care of our elders, aren’t we?” 

“These aren’t  _your_  elders!” Darkstripe snapped. 

 _“Nobody’s_  my elder!” Firepaw bristled and turned round to glare at the dark tabby. It was a lot easier to argue with someone other than his mentor. “I’m not even _from_ here! But I feed everyone and pick their pelts for fleas, don’t I? What’s the difference with these two? They’re hungry and alone and scared and they need help!” 

The light grey molly blinked at him gratefully. 

“And-” Firepaw turned back to Bluestar. “And sure, maybe they’re from another Clan, but they’re still elders. Right? Isn’t it our duty to protect and feed them? Especially with what’s going on over in ShadowClan, from what they told us.”

This set off a muffled wave of murmurs around the clearing. 

“The affairs of other Clans aren’t our business,” Bluestar said coldly. “And neither are their members.” 

Firepaw stared at her. A unique, shocked sort of anger was building inside his chest. Though he knew it wasn’t relevant, he still spat out, “Is that why you didn’t tell everyone that Rookstar’s been worried about ShadowClan?”

The Clan went mute. Bluestar’s eyes widened. 

Firepaw wanted very badly to follow up on this, but he couldn’t think of anything to add on, so he just glared up at her. “Why _isn’t_  this our business? We’re all Clan cats! We should be helping each other.” 

A few splinters fell to the ground. Bluestar’s next words were ground out and quiet. “You are out of line.”

“Why?” Firepaw stood as straight as he could and stared right into his leader’s eyes. “Just explain it to me! Why shouldn’t we take care of these elders? Why shouldn’t we listen to Rookstar and do something about ShadowClan? Tell me that, at least!” 

No one said anything. A few cats even backed a little away. Bluestar’s tail lashed. For a moment, Firepaw’s anger faltered and he began to fear his incoming punishment. 

Then Redtail moved from his position by the stump and came to stand by Firepaw. 

“I agree with him,” he said. His voice, though sedate and almost soft, rang out in the deafening silence of the camp. “There’s a time for us to be concerned with our own troubles, Bluestar. Now is not that time. If these elders are telling the truth, Brokenstar is breaking the code between his teeth and abusing his status. We’re obligated to at least speak out.” 

Firepaw looked up at the deputy in surprise. Redtail only gave him a sidelong, silently approving glance and the barest nod. 

This seemed to stumble Bluestar on her path of anger and bring up the Clan’s volume again. Firepaw watched everyone’s faces, delighted at the sudden change to something more relaxed and open. Only Darkstripe and Lizardtail, who were muttering to each other, and Tigerclaw, whose eyes gave away nothing, didn’t seem to agree. 

“So you believe my apprentice should bring in more strays?” Bluestar said, but the edge was fading from her voice. 

“I believe that the code tells us to protect elders and kits, no matter where they come from,” Redtail said simply. “He should have come to us, but his actions weren’t inherently wrong.” 

Bluestar’s eyes unfocused. She inhaled, exhaled heavily, and slowly lowered her fur. “Very well. Firepaw.”

Firepaw started. “Yes?” 

“You’ll be confined to camp for nine days and you will eat last out of the Clan,” Bluestar said, returning her gaze to him. “But your friends will stay here with you. You can take care of them and _our_  elders until your punishment is lifted. Greypaw, you and Ravenpaw will alternate charge in escorting the former seer around the territory.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Greypaw said, a little startled himself. Ravenpaw looked uneasily at the hag, who stuck out her jaw at him. 

“Redtail.” The fire was now almost completely faded as Bluestar looked at her deputy. “Since you seem concerned, I want you to take a small patrol around the houses and ensure there are no other cats from ShadowClan there. If you smell loners, alert me immediately.”

Redtail nodded. 

“This meeting is now over. Rogue, I want to speak with you.“ With that, Bluestar jumped down and exited camp. The hag snorted and limped out after her. Ravenpaw and Greypaw quickly joined Firepaw.

“Camp confinement,” Firepaw groaned. 

“It could be worse,” Ravenpaw said quickly. “You’ve at least got, uh, duties.” 

“Don’t feel too bad.” Greypaw nudged Firepaw. “We’ll make sure to stow away some good prey for you.” 

“And we’ll help you with the elders if you need it,” Ravenpaw said. 

Firepaw sighed. “Thanks. But I think I got it.” He waved his tail to them and approached the ShadowClan elders. “I’ll go see if Halftail and Smallstorm will let you stay in the elder’s den.”

“You have a den just for elders here?” Ashfur said. 

“Yep, and it’s pretty cozy.” 

Ashfur looked at his companion. “I think I like this place.” 

The molly looked at Firepaw for a long moment. Gradually, she let out a rattly purr. “Me too.”


	33. Chapter 30

“ ‘And why should I do that?’ said the patched tom.

“ ‘Because the dogs are on their way,’ said Thorn. ‘Can’t you hear them howling?’”

“The tom tossed his head. ‘I hear nothing but thunder in the distance. You’re just trying to frighten me away from this rabbit.’”

Firepaw stepped into the loose half-circle the elders had formed around Ravenpaw and dropped the squirrel he was carrying in front of the ShadowClan molly.

Ravenpaw faltered and stopped his story. “Oh. Uh-”

“Sorry,” Firepaw said. “Ignore me. Just bringing everyone food.”

“Fine apprentice you are, feeding these old bat-ears before us,” Smallstorm said.

The molly looked at him. “You can have this squirrel if you like-”

“Ignore him, Palecloud,” One-eye said. “He’s just giving Firepaw a hard time.”

“I already ate anyway.” Smallstorm nodded at Ravenpaw. “Go on, then.”

Ravenpaw shuffled nervously. He looked like he’d suddenly remembered he had an audience. “Um…”

“You were at the part with the wind in the trees,” Patchpelt said gently.

“Right. Right.” Ravenpaw straightened himself and continued. “ ‘Your ears are stopped,’ Thorn said. ‘Leave the rabbit out here and come with me.’”

Firepaw left the group, returning to the prey pile. He pawed through it for a mouse (Patchpelt’s favorite, he had learned) while half-listening to the story. Gradually, a pair of voices caught his attention, and he looked up just in time to see Greypaw and the hag enter camp.

“I’m just saying, give it some thought.” Greypaw was following the hag.

The hag responded with a rude hacking noise and limped over to the prey pile.

“And how was your walk?” Firepaw said.

“Your friend keeps trying to give me a new name,” the hag said. “Every single one he comes up with is awful.”

“You liked some of them,” Greypaw said, greeting Firepaw with a carelessly hard headbump.

“Well.” The hag looked at Firepaw through half-closed eyes with the faintest trace of amusement. “Yellowfang wasn’t too bad.”

“I like it,” Firepaw said. He pulled the fattest mouse he could find out of the stack of prey. “Greypaw, want to help me feed the elders?”

“Look, I’m already doing one of your jobs-” Greypaw said.

“Alright, alright.” Firepaw waved his tail and carried the mouse back to the elders.

“ ‘They’re nearly here,’ Thorn cried,” Ravenpaw was saying. “ ‘Listen! Their footsteps are growing louder and louder!’

“ ‘That’s only the wind in the trees,’ the patched tom-”

“Bluestar?  _Bluestar!”_

The camp collectively turned around as Teaselfoot burst through the entrance and skidded to a halt, looking around wildly.

“Has anyone seen Bluestar?” he said. “Or Redtail? Anyone with authority?”

“I think they’re out on patrol,” Firepaw said. “What’s up?”

“We-” Teaselfoot looked behind him. “We have company.”

“What kind of company?” Smallstorm said warily.

On cue, a pair of cats stepped through the bushes after Teaselfoot. One Firepaw recognized - the tall black leader of WindClan, Rookstar - but the other one was unfamiliar. He was a sleek brown tom with a bold nose, small ears, and incredibly faint stripes on his legs and face, which had a large scab across the brow. His eyes roamed over camp and quickly focused on the hag.

“There she is,” he whispered.

“Mm.” Rookstar didn’t even turn his head. He walked silently to the center of camp and sat down, his long tail curling around his feet. He stared straight ahead at the meeting stump. Slowly, his companion joined him.

Ravenpaw stared at the leader, completely forgetting his story. The elders rose to their feet, Palecloud and Ashfur quickly backing up into their den. Teaselfoot darted back out of camp, leaving a quiet awkwardness behind him. No one seemed willing to start a discussion with the two WindClan cats, so they all sat at the edges of the clearing, watching them carefully and whispering to each other.

After a stretch of time, Teaselfoot returned, panting, with Bluestar behind him. Only now did Rookstar look away from the stump and stand up to face her.

“Bluestar,” he said, calmly, flatly, his eyes ever-so-slightly narrowed.

“What are you doing here?” said Bluestar, a little tension in her voice and the way she stood. Her ears swiveled backwards.

Rookstar twisted his long neck to look around camp, finally settling his gaze on the hag. The two of them stared at each other for a moment before he turned back to Bluestar. “You’ve lost Spottedleaf and replaced her with Murkpelt, I assume.”

Bluestar blinked. “We-” She shook her head and stood tall (though not quite as tall as the other leader). “That isn’t-”

“Actually-” broke in the brown tom. “It  _is_ our business.”

Bluestar looked at him as though she’d just noticed he was present. “Buzzardface,” she said, a careful greeting.

The WindClan cats looked at each other, then back to Bluestar. Buzzardface spoke slowly. “I received a sign that one of the other seers was lost several moons ago. We made a guess that it was Spottedleaf, but we had no idea how…”

“She drowned in the river,” Rookstar said. “Is that correct?”

Bluestar’s answer was delayed. “Yes.”

“And she was on her way to the Mother.”

“Yes.”

“And she left in the night and was found in the morning.”

“Yes.”

“What a coincidence.” Rookstar glanced sideways at his companion.

Bluestar’s ears flattened. “What are you here for? Why bring this up?”

“Because our seer nearly drowned the same way last night,” said Rookstar. “Except he was pushed in.”

The camp as a whole took in a sharp breath.

Buzzardface took one step forward. “I was attacked in the middle of the night and dragged to the falls near Four-trees. I was close enough to the border for them to find me, and I was alone.”

Bluestar’s hair raised along her back. Her eyes widened.

“The scent I caught was of loners, but…” Buzzardface sat down. “I smelled ShadowClan on them, too.”

Everything was deathly silent. Buzzardface looked at Rookstar, who nodded, before continuing.

“I got lucky and made it downriver alive, and when I returned the patrol had gone. I got home and told the Clan everything, and then I remembered the sign.”

“We don’t like to make assumptions,” Rookstar said quietly. “But we already knew Shellcloud in RiverClan was fine. No one’s seen Murkpelt since we were first warned about her.”

“And StarClan said nothing,” Buzzardface said. “But I hadn’t seen Spottedleaf in moons.”

“We made the connection,” Rookstar said. “Buzzardface spoke with StarClan and was told to come here.”

Bluestar didn’t respond for a long time. Her eyes shut, opened and moved around, realization and fear and anger shining through them. When she did at last speak, it was in that same dangerous calmness she had used for Firepaw. “Your belief is that Spottedleaf was murdered.”

“Yes,” Rookstar said.

“And why would that be?”

“We don’t know.”

“Ach!” The hag jumped to her feet. “You smelled ShadowClan in that group? Did you see any of the cats?”

“They cut open my face and blood went into my eyes,” Buzzardface said. “I only smelled them.”

“But you  _did_  smell ShadowClan,” the hag insisted. 

“Yes.” 

“We need to do something immediately,” the hag said to Bluestar. “Brokenstar’s behind this.”

“And your reasoning?” Rookstar said. 

“He’s gotten rid of his seer, his deputy and the elders,” said the hag. “Anyone who can challenge him. It figures that he’d start doing the same to the other Clans.” 


	34. Chapter 31

Things moved very quickly after that.

Rookstar’s visit jerked ThunderClan awake - in one night, patrols were doubled and their routes extended into the houses and the grassland around the Gathering-place. More often than not, they came back with news of a wayward stray or flattened grass that stank of the marshes, especially near the other Clans’ borders. Bluestar and Redtail were out constantly in meetings with Crookedstar and Rookstar, returning in the morning exhausted and grim. Dustpelt and Sandstorm even reported chasing after an emboldened loner near the white fences.

Firepaw could have wailed aloud at the injustice of it all. Not knowing how to count to nine, he couldn’t fully measure how many days of his punishment had passed, even with his Clanmates attempting to help him. Ravenpaw and Greypaw trained in camp with him and the elders certainly appreciated his company, but Firepaw would have given his left foot to be outside and on one of the patrols. The worst of it was that he had very little space to run around and exercise. Living in the Clan and training as hard as he did, the nights passing without some outlet for his energy were pure agony. He was just about to start tearing out his fur when Bluestar called him into her den one evening.

“I thought you’d like to know that your punishment is finished,” she said. “You’ll be on the next patrol tonight.”

Firepaw jumped to his feet. “Really?”

Bluestar’s face softened just a little. “I trust you’ll know not to bring in any strangers you find.”

Firepaw opened his mouth to respond, stopped, and nodded, tail dropping to the ground.

Bluestar sighed. “Your heart is in the right place, Firepaw, I know that. I can respect your morals. But you need to have some restraint - caution, rather - from now on.”

“I’ll try,” Firepaw said. “But doesn’t the… code, or whatever… doesn’t it want us to help cats?”

Bluestar blinked slowly. “We’ll have to talk about that sometime soon.”

Later on, Mousefur called Ravenpaw and Firepaw and led them out of camp. Even if it was just for marking the border, Firepaw was bouncing around in flush of his freedom. The night was pleasantly cool and the scent of every tree, flower and mushroom felt brand new after the simple feline-clogged smell of camp. Firepaw trotted back and forth between Mousefur and the trail ahead, humming short little noises as an outlet.

At last, Mousefur got the hint and said, “You can run ahead if you want. I’ll catch up with you two. Just stay close to the border, alright?”

Firepaw threw a “Thanks!” over his shoulder as he bolted. He faintly heard Ravenpaw sigh before footsteps trailed after him.

The two ran along the ditch by the road, slowing down to a trot once they reached the end of the border. Firepaw shook himself with delight and stretched. “I forgot how strong the road smells.”

“You were in camp for nine days,” Ravenpaw said tiredly. “How did you forget that?”

“I’m dumb,” Firepaw said, hopping gleefully around a blade of grass. “Should we go back to Mousefur?”

“I mean, maybe.” Ravenpaw looked around. “Or we can at least wait for her here.”

“I’m fine with eit-”

A faint voice. 

Firepaw stopped, ears pricked. “Did you hear that?”

Ravenpaw paused, ears swiveling. The two looked at each other and the area around them. They were at the patch of trees just before the ground sloped upwards and turned grassy. The voice spoke again up ahead. Quietly and quickly, the two followed it. Ravenpaw stopped abruptly and ducked behind a tree. Firepaw had to look ahead to see why.

A pair of cats - a black one with white feet and a dark brown tom with a kinked tail - were sitting across from a group of four much larger, much more worn-down cats. The leader of them appeared to be a thin ginger cat with what looked to be a bare patch on their back. Firepaw couldn’t make out their exact words, but by their body language he could see that this was a friendly meeting.

“That’s Brokenstar, isn’t it?” he whispered to Ravenpaw.

Ravenpaw nodded.

Firepaw stepped behind the tree, crouching. “Greypaw is going to be so mad that he missed this.”

Ravenpaw shot him a frightened look and he quieted himself.

The ginger cat spoke a little longer with Brokenstar and then departed with the rest of the ragged loners north, towards WindClan territory. The black cat by Brokenstar’s side looked at his leader and said something that Firepaw didn’t catch. Brokenstar trotted back down towards the marshes, kinked tail waving. The black tom watched the loners for a moment before following.

Firepaw tapped Ravenpaw with his tail and backed away. Once he was a safe distance, he turned around and ran back down the border, Ravenpaw close behind him. He only skidded to a halt when he saw Mousefur.

“We need to talk with Bluestar!” he shouted before she could say anything.

“We just-” Ravenpaw looked behind him fearfully. “Loners-”

“Brokenstar was talking with them-”

“We saw it, four cats-”

Mousefur hushed by motioning with her paw. “You  _saw_  Brokenstar?”

“By the Gathering-place!” Firepaw said. “They were talking about something, but we couldn’t hear them.”

Mousefur’s hair raised. “They didn’t come towards our territory, did they?”

“No, they went-” Firepaw looked at Ravenpaw. “I think they were going to WindClan.”

Mousefur thought for a moment, then lifted her head. “Go back to camp and explain this to Bluestar. I’ll finish the patrol. You’re certain they were going north?”

Ravenpaw and Firepaw nodded.

“Then go home, quick.” Mousefur ran past them, tail stiff.

The apprentices wasted no time in sprinting back for camp.

A few days later, the moon shone in full down on the Gathering-place. The crowd inside the ring of the four trees was deathly silent - every cat was watching the metal tunnel, waiting for ShadowClan to arrive. Only Rookstar was looking ahead of him, apparently deep in thought. Firepaw kneaded the ground, trying to get rid of his nervous energy.

A painful amount of time passed before cats emerged from the tunnel. At the lead, Brokenstar walked leisurely, his head turned back to talk with his group. He went silent as he approached the Gathering-place and finally appeared to notice every eye trained on him.

“Late again,” he said, shaking his head. “My sincerest apologies, I-”

“Don’t bother with excuses,” Bluestar said. “We all have something to talk with you about. Let’s not waste time.”

Brokenstar blinked. Something flashed across his eyes before the easy calmness returned. “I take it I’m in trouble for something, then.”

Crookedstar scoffed and lowered his head, ears back. “You have no idea.”


	35. Chapter 32

Brokenstar looked over the silent mass in front of him, something cold and unsettled slowly clouding his eyes, before setting his sight on the three other leaders.

“Alright,” he said with a very weighted slowness. He motioned with his crooked tail to his followers, who lined the edge of the crowd in clusters of two or three, and strolled forward, leaping onto the leader’s rock next to Bluestar. He was watching the crowd, but it was obvious to Firepaw that he was trying to ignore the accusing stares from Rookstar and Crookedstar.

“Should we bother with news and reports, or should we get to business?” Brokenstar said, giving Bluestar a casual glance.

“Business,” Bluestar said. “I’d like to know why we’ve been scenting your Clan so close to our borders, to begin with.”

 _“My_  Clan?” Brokenstar blinked. “Are you certain?”

“Very,” said Bluestar. “You’ve been lingering too long in places you shouldn’t be.”

“Such as…”

“The houses. And these fields.”

“Are those not neutral grounds?” said Brokenstar, tilting his head. “And how can you be sure that it wasn’t the rogue who escaped from us?”

Firepaw held his breath.

Bluestar’s answer was delayed. “Can she split herself in two, or three or four? There were multiple trails found, Brokenstar, many of which were directly on the border line.”

Firepaw sighed in relief.

“Hmm.” Brokenstar looked up at the sky in thought. “Perhaps our apprentices have been sneaking around-”

“And making friends with loners, eh?” said Crookedstar.

Brokenstar’s head sharply lowered and turned.

“Hard to tell you apart from your apprentices, you’re all so small.” Crookedstar straightened up like he was trying to stretch his legs without actually getting onto his feet. “We were sure it was  _warriors_  leading their Clanless friends all over the place.”

“We’ve chased off and tracked multiple loners around our territory,” Bluestar said. “And two of our apprentices saw you speaking with a party of them just a few nights ago.”

Brokenstar stared at her. “That…”

“We’ve also seen a group chase a queen into the road,” Bluestar said. “Where she was struck down by a car.”

“Ah, right.” Brokenstar sighed. “Dawncloud had a fit of madness and ran-”

“Because she was being chased.”

“No, no-”

“You’d serve yourself better if you spoke honestly, Brokenstar.” Bluestar narrowed her eyes. “We have an eyewitness.”

Brokenstar didn’t say anything to this. A few ShadowClan cats shuffled uncomfortably.

“Would you like to explain your new-found boldness, lad?” Crookedstar said. “And that poor queen’s untimely demise?”

Brokenstar hastily licked the raised fur on his chest for a moment before replying. “All I can say is that your eyewitnesses are mistaken. ShadowClan may be expanding its grounds, yes, but we’re a swiftly growing Clan. We need more than our territory can give us. We would never be where we shouldn’t.”

“Hm,” said Bluestar.

“And trust me, we have enough trouble with loners in the Aulmir.” Brokenstar’s voice smoothed and relaxed. “We’re don’t fraternize with riff-raff. Your apprentices saw two ShadowClan patrols talking together.”

Faint whispers rose from the crowd.

“Interesting,” Rookstar said, speaking for the first time. “Buzzardface swore he smelled ShadowClan and loners half a moon ago.”

Brokenstar stiffened.

“I wonder what goal you were trying to achieve with him.” Rookstar’s voice was as monotone as ever, but the tip of his long tail twitched. “Perhaps there’s something you don’t want StarClan telling us.”

“I think this has gone on long enough,” Brokenstar said, standing up. “If you’re just going to accuse me of crossing borders and attempting to murder your seers-”

“I never said you tried to kill him,” Rookstar said. “Or that there was more than one incident.”

Brokenstar, bristling, jumped down from the boulder. “This Gathering is over.”

“You aren’t going anywhere until you explain yourself!” Bluestar snapped. “Get back up here immediately.”

To his credit, Brokenstar only halted for a few heartbeats. Then he nodded to his Clanmates and sprinted for the road, the ShadowClan party right behind him. No one had a chance to get up and follow them before they disappeared into the metal tunnel.

“Don’t bother going after him,” Crookedstar said to the cats who had jumped up to give chase. “That’s really all the confirmation we needed.”

“He has to answer for this, Crookedstar,” Bluestar said.

“Not on a waking night,” Rookstar said quietly. “The retribution he deserves will have to wait until tomorrow.”

“Hmph.” Bluestar glared at the way Brokenstar had gone.

Crookedstar yawned and stood up. “We’ll meet here and head to the marshes once the sun’s risen. ‘Til then, though, perhaps we should head home.”

“Perhaps we should.” Bluestar shut her eyes in thought. “I don’t like leaving it like this.”

“None of us do,” said someone in the crowd. “Can’t we do something tonight?”

“Not without angering old Suriin,” Crookedstar said.

The mob muttered among itself, but no one retorted.

“Neither of you have any other news to report?” Crookedstar looked at the other two leaders, who shook their heads. “Then let’s end this here and make sure he hasn’t sent any loners to our camps. Good luck to you both.”

“It’s appreciated,” Bluestar said. “Guard the Sunning-rocks well tonight.”

Crookedstar made a rumbling, amused sound and left the boulder, his Clan slowly weaving through the group to go home. Rookstar and Bluestar followed suit.

Firepaw walked slowly after Bluestar, looking at the metal tunnel. He had a flickering, heated anxiety in his heart and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen soon. He wished Crookedstar had let the gathering cats go after Brokenstar, just to have it done with tonight. He hardly noticed Goldenflower slowing down to walk with him.

“Everything will be fine,” she said softly. “You can leave the worrying to the warriors and leaders.”

Firepaw finally looked away from the tunnel to Goldenflower. “But it  _is_ something to worry about, so shouldn’t I be worried too?”

Goldenflower blinked. “Well…”

Firepaw focused ahead of him on a low-hanging star with a sigh. “It’s appreciated, I guess. Thanks anyway.”

Goldenflower didn’t say anything. Firepaw wasn’t surprised to feel a small sense of dread from this.


	36. Chapter 33

“He just  _ran?”_

Firepaw nodded, passing a pigeon to Palecloud. Ashfur was staring at him with wider-than-usual eyes.

The hag, sitting nearby, scoffed. “Didn’t even try to defend himself.”

“He tried a little,” Firepaw said. “But when Rookstar brought up Buzzardface, he panicked.”

“I knew something was funny about Spottedleaf’s death.” The hag’s ragged tail tapped the ground angrily. “She knew it was coming. Should have talked to her.”

“We all should have,” Brindleface said unhappily. The male kit ran up to her to play and she gently herded him back towards the nursery.

The camp was silent until Bluestar emerged from the entrance with Redtail. Without pausing to talk to anyone, she went straight for the meeting stump and leaped onto it, calling the Clan together. The scattered clusters of cats immediately swarmed the stump, heads turned up anxiously to look at their leader.

“There’s no telling what Brokenstar may do tonight,” she said. “Redtail and I have decided to set up guards along the borders until dawn. Whoever wants to stay home to guard camp must say so now.”

Before anyone could respond, something crashed through the underbrush just outside of camp. The entire Clan stood up as one as the thing stumbled around the bushes that made up the border of the clearing.

“Lionpelt,” Bluestar said.

Lionpelt trotted through the entrance, hair raised and head lowered, ready to bite. He looked to the right, blinked, raised his head and said something. He backed up to let through a lanky, light brown tom whose sides were heaving with every exhausted gasp.

“A WindClanner?” said Bluestar. “What are you doing here?”

The tom caught his breath, stood up straight, and said calmly, “WindClan is currently under attack. Rookstar has requested your assistance.”

The Clan erupted in noise. Bluestar had to yowl to silence everyone.

“How many of the enemy?” she said.

“ _Mirin*_ ,” the tom said. “Possibly more than that.”

The Clan muttered and whispered worriedly.

“Where are they now?” Bluestar said.

“Close to the border,” the tom said. “They drove us from camp down to the gorge. If we may be quick…”

“Is WindClan overwhelmed?”

“Yes. Hence them driving us from camp.”

“Very well.” Bluestar jumped down from her stump. “Warriors and apprentices, with me. Lizardtail, Teaselfoot and Mousefur will go to the border and stand guard by the road and houses. What was your name?”

“Fawnfoot.”

“Fawnfoot, lead the way.”

Firepaw blinked as the Clan shuffled out of camp as the tom turned and loped back outside. He ended up walking next to Ravenpaw, who was shivering violently and had every hair on end. Firepaw managed to nudge his shoulder with his cheek. Ravenpaw settled down just a little.

The Clan ran after the tom, who had to constantly duck and step to the side to avoid a bush or bramble patch. Except for the odd shuffle of leaves and landing from a leap over a rotten log, they moved in grim silence. As they crossed into the grasslands, they spread out in a wide, bent line, Bluestar and Redtail at the front with the biggest warriors behind them, and the apprentices at each end of the line. Soon a writhing, twisting mass of fighters close to the river came into view as the patrol crossed the border.

It was a frightening sight - the thin, athletic cats of WindClan were being pushed backwards towards the churning white river by tattered, wide-shouldered strangers with the odd apprentice-sized warrior at their side. The stench of blood curdled the air and the quiet of night was shattered by screams of pain and fury. Firepaw almost halted as fear gripped him, but he was pushed forward by the movement of the patrol.

ThunderClan gave no warning of their presence, only broke into a full-on sprint and charged into the battlefield. The effect was immediate - a few cats were thrown to the side or bowled over by the oncoming wave, torn away from their opponents and faced down by a much larger, fresher warrior. An unfamiliar voice screeched out a command. Lionpelt answered with a bellowing roar and launched himself at the biggest cat he could find, Tigerclaw and Darkstripe close behind him. The rest of ThunderClan spread out, encircling the loners and diving into the crowd to assist WindClan.

Firepaw lost track of Greypaw and Ravenpaw and stopped, looking around. Without warning, a mass of patched fur lunged into him and tackled him to the ground. A tortoiseshell hissed in his face, pinning him with her paws on his chest. Firepaw lost his concentration and started to panic. What was the move to push a cat off of him?

The tortoiseshell slashed across his face and Firepaw flinched at a stinging cut on his nose. His back feet struck her stomach, clawing viciously. The molly lost her grip for just a heartbeat and Firepaw made the most of it, reaching down and biting at her foot. She lifted up the foot in surprise and Firepaw rocked to the side, making her lose her balance. With a hiss and a swing at her face, he managed to back her up just long enough for him to get up and face her. The tortoiseshell snarled, arching her back. She and Firepaw moved from side to side, each trying to get around their opponent’s face and attack.

Abruptly, a cat yowled nearby, and the tortoiseshell bounded away, forgetting Firepaw. Firepaw chased after her, but lost her in the crowd. Half-grateful, he looked around for Ravenpaw and Greypaw. The noise of the battle was quickly overwhelming him. He tried vainly to pass through the crowd, which only resulted in getting knocked aside by a whirling pair of fighters or blocked by a tangle of claws and fur.

A familiar voice cried out in alarm.

Firepaw forced his way out of the cluster. Ravenpaw was cornered by a pair of loners and was trying to crawl backwards to the border. Without thinking, Firepaw charged into the nearest cat with a shout, biting down hard on the cat’s neck. The other one ran forward and gripped Firepaw by the scruff, tugging violently, but they quickly lost their grip and rolled out of sight, Whitecloud’s claws firmly in their sides. Firepaw’s cat shook, trying to shake Firepaw off, but he only tightened his jaw and began tearing at their shoulder. He only let go when the cat was clearly attempting to escape him. As soon as he did they ran off, their shoulder bleeding. Firepaw was about to turn and speak to Ravenpaw when a cat called out, “Retreat! Retreat!”

The loners broke away with hisses and snarls, running after a brown tom with a scarred face who had separated himself from the fight. They were soon over the hill and out of sight, leaving WindClan and ThunderClan by the gorge.

“That went faster than I expected,” Bluestar said. She coughed and shook her head. “ThunderClan, come to me. Is everyone alright?”

“Hardly anything,” said Frostfur. Her white coat was dark in a few places. “What kind of a fight was that?”

Rookstar limped up to Bluestar, dipping his head respectfully. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

“Your scout was right to call us.” Bluestar looked around. “Where is Redtail?”

The cats turned their heads this way and that, trying to find the deputy. Firepaw couldn’t see him anywhere.

Bluestar grew tense. “Where is my deputy?”

She trotted through her charges, tail bristling. “Redtail. He didn’t chase after them, did he?”

She reached Tigerclaw, who was standing by the gorge, looking into the water. Tigerclaw turned around very slowly, his eyes wide.

“He…” Tigerclaw looked back at the water. “He fell in. He was pushed by one of the loners.”

Bluestar froze.

“I couldn’t reach him in time.” Tigerclaw’s voice was low and flat. He was staring at nothing now. “He went into the rapids.”

A few members of the Clan rushed to the edge of the cliff, led by Dustpelt, who cried out Redtail’s name. Firepaw couldn’t bring himself to join them. Ravenpaw shook beside him.

Bluestar was completely still. “Whitecloud, head downstream. Find him and-”

“Trap! Trap!”

The Clan looked up. Teaselfoot was sprinting towards them, every hair on end. He didn’t stop this time, only ran faster, shouting between breaths, “Trap! Ambush!”

Bluestar trotted up to meet him, still taut in her movements. “What’s happened?”

“This was a trap!” Teaselfoot cried. “ShadowClan came as soon as you left and started attacking camp! You need to come home right now!”

 

*A Clan’s worth, thirty to forty.


	37. Chapter 34

They were too late by the time they reached camp.

The clearing was torn apart - clots of dirt were tossed up and scattered, leaving paw-sized holes in the ground, and drops or splashes of blood dotted what was still flat. The ferns behind the meeting stump were trampled down violently. Claw marks raked the entrance of the nursery and the log that made up the elder’s den was splintered and chipped on the edges. The few cats that were inside hobbled about with scores of wounds.

Worst of all - and Firepaw had to choke down bile at this - two bodies were sprawled on the floor, each viciously ripped down their sides and stomachs, lying in pools of blood. Patchpelt was bent down over one. Frostfur broke free of the patrol and ran for the other, skidding to a halt and nosing the grey neck.

“Willowpelt!” she said, her voice pitched up in terror.

Willowpelt was still at first. Then she wheezed out a weak breath. Frostfur sighed in relief and lifted her head, looking around the clearing. The Clan slowly wandered in, agape at the damages.

Bluestar joined Patchpelt at the other body. She nudged One-eye’s shoulder, but it was no use; she was long dead. Her single eye was closed and her mouth was slightly open. Had Firepaw not known better, he would have thought she was asleep.

“The kits are gone,” Patchpelt said quietly. “We tried to save them, but…”

“Where’s Murkpelt?” Bluestar said. “And the elders?”

“Here,” said Ashfur, emerging from the elder’s den bloody and sorely beaten. Palecloud limped him, a deep cut on her leg.

“She gave chase,” she said. “We told her to stay here and wait, she tried to help-”

“We’ll need to find her, then.” Bluestar’s voice lowered dangerously. “Who else is dead?”

“No one, as far as we know.” Halftail stepped around the log, shoulders and chest battered. “One-eye set herself in front of the nursery and they overwhelmed her and Willowpelt. We were held in place until they fetched the kits.”

Bluestar growled to herself, tail lashing. “What did they want with them?”

“If I know Brokenstar,” Ashfur said, “he’s trying to hold them as an advantage over you. For what purpose, I can’t say.”

“An advantage,” Bluestar repeated. Her ears flattened against her head. “Fine. We’ll see who’s got the advantage.”

She turned around to face her warriors. They all immediately stood at attention.

“Ravenpaw and Sandstorm,” she said. “The two of you are unharmed?”

“Y-yes.”

“I’m fine.”

“Go to the other Clans and tell them to join us in ShadowClan territory. Ravenpaw, WindClan should still be where we left them and they’ll be happy to pay us back. Sandstorm, you go to RiverClan. Swim if you must.”

She paused, and then spoke again, her voice ever-so-slightly unsteady.

“If you see Redtail alive, do what you can to get him out of the water.”

“I know,” Sandstorm said, eyes troubled. She turned and trotted out of camp, a nervous Ravenpaw following her.

“I want everyone who can still fight to follow me,” Bluestar said, walking after them. “We can’t let them get too far.”

Firepaw was the last out, sparing the time to look at One-eye. He wanted to say something to Patchpelt, who hovered over her miserably, but shook his head and turned away again. There would be time to say goodbye later.

The patrol moved again in a straight path for the road. They caught up with the hag quickly - evidently, she had stopped halfway to wait for them.

“I can take you directly to ShadowClan’s camp,” she said. Her long fur was matted with blood and her face was mauled.

“Are you sure?” Whitecloud said, looking her up and down. “You’re wounded-”

“And I’ll give those varlets back double what they did to me.” She jerked her head and turned away. “So will you.”

Bluestar didn’t hesitate in trotting after her. Whitecloud cast a doubtful glance to the rest of the patrol, but he and everyone else silently followed.

When they reached the road, Bluestar said, “We should take that tunnel ShadowClan uses.”

“No,” said the hag. “They’re expecting that. Come on. They’ll see us as soon as we cross either way.”

“All together, then,” said Bluestar. She waited until a car passed before shouting, “Now!”

The patrol burst forward, leaping up the gravelly slope and sprinting over the pavement. There were no cars coming in the distance and they landed in the coarse grass of the marshes with no trouble. The ground here was soft and muddy, and the sharp grass tickled Firepaw’s feet and nose, but he hardly noticed. His focus was on an approaching pack of cats coming from the north, a few of which were shouting angrily.

The hag moved to the front of the ThunderClan patrol, squinting, as the group approached. Bluestar stepped close behind her. The cat at the front, a wiry, thin black tom, held up his tail and his entourage stopped.

“Murkpelt,” he said hoarsely.

Firepaw expected the hag to correct him or snarl an insult, but she simply sighed. “You’re too old for this, Nightpelt.”

The tom didn’t respond. He just looked back at his crew of broad-shouldered loners, who all suddenly lost their bravado now that their leader was hesitating.

“And you,” the hag said sharply to them. “You ought to know by now that whatever Brokenstar promised you, you won’t be getting. He’s a liar, a manipulator and a snake, and you’re letting him play you for fools.”

One of the cats, a rather large grey tom, stepped forward. “How did you end up with ThunderClan?”

The hag snorted. “Because any fool with a half-good eye can see when a cat’s innocent.”

Nightpelt shuffled his paws.

“You know better now,” said the hag. “Brokenstar was the only one who knew about that dog at the Rotten Place. The lot of you just couldn’t accept it.”

Nightpelt lowered his head.

“Let us through,” said the hag. “The territories will be safer with him gone.”

Out of the corner of Firepaw’s eye, another group appeared from the metal tunnel. The loners whirled around to face the tattered cats of WindClan. Even wounded, they walked with long, slow strides and didn’t flinch at the snarls of the loners. Ravenpaw, who was in front, skittered backwards and let Rookstar take the lead before running to join Firepaw and Greypaw.

“We saw Crookedstar heading up with his Clan,” Rookstar said to Bluestar, passing the loners as if he was alone on a peaceful night. “He’ll be here shortly.”

The hag turned to Nightpelt and snorted. Blood trickled out of her nose. “The bulk of you are at camp, I imagine. Try to fight us here, run to Brokenstar, let us pass and return this lot to the Aulmir, I don’t care. It’s all the same end for you either way.”

Nightpelt looked between the two Clan patrols, then at his own group, and then to the large grey tom. The grey tom sighed and nodded, and Nightpelt stepped back.

“He’s been losing support,” he said. “Maybe you can convince them to turn him in. Just…please don’t hurt anyone more than you have to.”

“We’ll try,” said the hag. Somewhere in her rusty voice was the barest hint of softness.

Nightpelt quietly led the bemused loners south, promising payment for their services. In a short while, Crookedstar boomed out a greeting as he, Sandstorm and several RiverClanners joined the patrols. Among the youthful faces was Silverpaw, who sidled up to the three ThunderClan apprentices while the leaders talked.

“Hello again, rabble,” she said. “Poor night for you, isn’t it?”

“It’s been better,” Greypaw said.

The conglomeration of Clans moved quickly east, the hag in the lead, proudly trotting along with her half-army behind her. There was nothing said for a long time, except for the occasional grunt of displeasure when a cat stepped into watery mud or bungled a hop over a stream. The marshes were empty and silent, and it unsettled Firepaw deeply. He smelled no prey, only the stinking dark water and withered, rotting reeds.

“I’ll give him this,” the hag said suddenly. “He made sure ShadowClan never went hungry.”

“Bluestar doesn’t let us go hungry,” Darkstripe scoffed.

“You don’t live in a barren marsh,” the hag said.

Eventually, Firepaw caught a whiff of feline, and quickly after saw a small cat staring at them before running into a large, thorny bush raised on a mound of dirt over the water. As they approached, he could hear Brokenstar shouting, “Stay strong! We still have the advantage! Don’t let them get to you!”

“We’ll be getting to you soon enough,” Crookedstar called. “Might want to make it easier on yourself by surrendering.”

There was dead silence in the bush. Firepaw thought he could see tabby markings and eyes in the leafage.

“The kits, Brokenstar,” Bluestar said. “Let them go before we use force.”

Leaves shifted and Brokenstar growled something. A kitten squealed in pain.

“Hear that?” he shouted. “You don’t get to threaten me, Bluestar, I don’t care how many cats you have outside.”

Bluestar’s claws gripped into the soft earth. A few cats murmured worriedly at the edges of the bush.

“Now- now you can stay out there as long as you want,” Brokenstar said. “But! But the longer you stay, the more danger you put these kits in. Go home, Bluestar, and everyone out there. Go home and your kits are safe. Stay here and there’s no telling what will happen. Have I made myself clear?”


	38. Chapter 35

The Clans were silent, exchanging tense looks and shifting their feet free of the mud, all nervous and uncertain until Rookstar tilted his head to one side with a look of utter boredom.

“Cute,” he said.

He turned to the other leaders and murmured something. Bluestar’s expression hardened and Crookedstar nodded. The three then motioned with their tails and led their Clans around the bush, encircling it. They gave a quiet order to their apprentices. Then, in unison, they ran up into the bushes, their warriors behind them.

Brokenstar yelled a command and they were met with a mix of loners and ShadowClan cats. The marsh broke out in screams and hisses, the four-Clan brawl a whirl of fur and claws. In one place two warriors of ThunderClan and WindClan fought together against a swarm of vicious ShadowClan cats; in another a loner wrestled with a RiverClan tom, sending the two rolling down the slope and into the water; past them Lionpelt yowled encouragements to his allies while holding down a loner for Sandstorm to attack.

But Firepaw didn’t stop to observe. He and the other apprentices were weaving their way through the foliage (which Firepaw quickly realized was a series of bushes close together) and into the heart of ShadowClan’s camp. There weren’t many of them - only six or seven - but with the adults distracted by fighting, they faced no opposition other than the sharpness of the branches and thorns. Greypaw was stuck for a moment, but Ravenpaw managed to free his fur and the two continued on.

Firepaw pushed his way into the middle of a very small clearing, where the moon shone down through the leaves above. A pair of queens, two frightened apprentices and a trio of kits huddled together, evidently listening to the conflict outside. Just behind them stood Brokenstar, eyes nearly out of his head and fur skyward and stiff. Behind him were the ThunderClan kits.

Firepaw wasted no time - he ran straight for Brokenstar and lunged to tackle him. Someone crashed into his side, knocking the wind out of him and sending him rolling. Firepaw coughed weakly, immobilized. The cat standing over him - a spotted grey apprentice - looked terrified.

“Just go home!” he said, his breath stuttering and frantic. “Please! It’ll be over if you leave now!”

Firepaw stared up at him. The apprentice was shivering violently and barely holding Firepaw down. He got an idea and fixed the tom with a stern glare.

“What are you  _doing?”_  he said. “Why are you letting your leader get away with this?”

The breath caught in the apprentice’s throat. He moved his mouth, but no sound came out.

“You know what he’s doing is wrong,” Firepaw continued, raising his voice over the screeches of the fighters outside. “Those kits don’t belong to you.“

Out of the corner of his eye, Firepaw saw Greypaw advance. He lifted his tail to stop him.

“Let me up and let me get them out of here to safety,” he said, as calmly as he could. “You don’t have to fight me if you don’t want to.”

The apprentice looked at him, then at Brokenstar, who was pushing the ThunderClan kits into a thick green shrub, and then at Firepaw again. Firepaw looked back at him steadily, waiting.

Slowly, the apprentice backed away and crouched, head down. Firepaw rolled onto his feet and shook his pelt clear of dirt, quickly turning around to assess the situation. The queens were vastly outnumbered by the other apprentices, but they were fighting viciously enough to keep them at a distance. ShadowClan’s kits cowered behind their mothers, except for one little light-colored tom that was gawking at Firepaw with humongous eyes.

Firepaw darted after Brokenstar, but he had already gone deeper into the brush. Firepaw tried to rush, but thorns scraped his sides and he was hit in the eye twice by a stiff twig. All the while, Brokenstar was moving out of sight and heading for the outskirts of camp.

A familiar voice snarled and Firepaw saw Brokenstar fall backwards. The hag was on him and swinging, spewing curses at the top of her voice. Brokenstar was stunned for a moment, but quickly began fighting back. To Firepaw’s surprise (and slight amusement), he could barely fight any better than the hag. 

Firepaw worked his way through the bushes, inching closer and closer to the pair of fighters and the kits. When he got close enough he grabbed the female kit and set her to the side, away from the battle, and placed the male kit close to her. 

“Stay right here,” he whispered to them, and jumped forward to grab Brokenstar by the scruff. 

Brokenstar immediately forgot the hag and screeched. He kicked and tried to spin his body away from Firepaw’s grip, but he wasn’t strong enough. Firepaw began dragging the thrashing leader backwards. The hag passed through the brambles and joined him, tugging at his back and shoulder. Slowly, Brokenstar fighting the whole way, they pulled him back into the clearing. Greypaw immediately set himself on Brokenstar and weighed the half-as-heavy cat down with ease. 

As Firepaw left to find the kits again, he heard the hag growl, “You’re going to die for everything you’ve done.”

“I haven’t done  _anything,_  you old shrew!” Brokenstar made a few struggling sounds. “I’ve served my Clan - that’s it!  _You’re_  the murderer!”

 _“Really_ now,” the hag said. “I wasn’t the one who told Raggedstar to meet me at the Rotten Place, was I?”

Firepaw turned around to gauge Brokenstar’s reaction. He said nothing, only struggled a little more. 

“And what excuse do you have for killing Brownpaw?” The hag stood tall, glaring him down. “Too impertinent for you? He didn’t respect your leadership, so he deserved to die?”

“You know  _nothing,”_  Brokenstar hissed. “Nothing at all.  _Get off of me, you fat-”_

“How about Dawncloud?” The hag stepped closer. Brokenstar beat at Greypaw’s side to get away. “Couldn’t stand the idea of letting her go her own way? Or perhaps you didn’t want anyone finding out what you were planning.”

Firepaw became dimly aware that the fighting inside had stopped. He backed up slowly and bumped into the trunk of a bush. One of the kits whimpered behind him. 

“Where’s my apprentice?” the hag said. “Have you chased him off already? Are you making him fight? Have you demoted him? Anything to keep StarClan away from you and threatening your power, isn’t it?” 

 ** _“Get - off - of - me,”_**  Brokenstar snarled. He bit and clawed and Greypaws leg began to bleed. Greypaw shoved his weight down on Brokenstar’s chest, making him wheeze. 

By this time, ShadowClan and its support were being pushed into a retreat, and the other Clans were following them into the briar. Firepaw heard the kits being gently hushed by Goldenflower. 

“And you-” The hag whirled to face the slowly growing crowd. “You knew from the moment he started spreading rumors that it wasn’t me. You’re stupid in the worst way - you knew better and you still went with what was more comfortable. None of you liked me and I liked none of you, and that made it a lot easier than if you had to stop and look critically at Raggedstar’s precious little boy.”

None of the Clan responded. The fighting had stopped and the last of them were being ushered into camp, crowding the already cramped space. 

“We’ll make this easy for you lot,” called Crookedstar from somewhere outside. “Give us Brokenstar and we’ll let the rest of you off for your actions. Is he cornered?”

“I’m holding him down, sir!” Greypaw shouted. 

“Excellent!” Crookedstar boomed. “ShadowClan, it’s your call!”

The wounded marsh-cats exchanged glances and whispered among themselves. Brokenstar’s head bobbed up and down as he tried to worm his way out from under Greypaw. 

“They don’t have us,” he panted to his Clan. “We still can pull through here. We all need to look out for each other-”

“Brokenstar,” said a black cat with white feet. “Did you kill Raggedstar and Brownpaw?” 

Brokenstar froze. He said nothing. 

The black cat stood up and limped over to Greypaw. “Why did you do it?”

Again, silence. The black tom shook his head and looked at Greypaw.

“Take him outside,” he said. No one in the Clan objected. 

Greypaw nodded and got up. Brokenstar scrambled to his feet and tried to run, but he was quickly caught by a RiverClan warrior and dragged backwards. 

 _“Don’t let them take me!”_  he screamed. “You’re my Clan, you’re supposed to protect me - I’m your leader -  _Blackfoot! **Blackfoot, do something!”**_

The black tom sat down and watched him go with narrowed yellow eyes. ShadowClan hung its collective head and avoided looking at their leader. 

Brokenstar screamed again as he was pulled out of the briar and a crowd of cats surrounded him. Firepaw joined Greypaw and the other apprentices in the center of camp, careful to keep his eyes away from whatever was happening to the crooked-tailed leader. 

“You alright?” he said to Greypaw. 

“Well, my foot hurts,” Greypaw said, lifting his bloody paw. “But I was helpful, so that’s not too bad.”

“What about you?” Firepaw looked at the hag.

The hag had been watching the Clan in silence, and it took her a moment to respond. She slowly shook her head and turned for the outside. “I said what I needed to say. Let’s go home.” 

The other three Clans joined together again. Crookedstar was mauled, but he purred jovially. Bluestar was clean, but she seemed much less happy. 

“He had to pick a waking night,” she grumbled. “StarClan must be furious over this.”

“We acted in self-defense,” Rookstar said calmly. “ThunderClan’s kits are safe and Brokenstar is dealt with. Suriin and StarClan will understand.”

“I suppose.” Bluestar sighed. “Thank you two for coming to help. ThunderClan will find a way to repay you.”

“Sunning-rocks would be a right good gift, old girl,” Crookedstar said.

“In your dreams,” Bluestar said, almost warmly. 

Crookedstar made a harsh sound of amusement and the three leaders called their Clans together. Firepaw didn’t see Brokenstar anywhere in the crowd. He didn’t ask what had happened to him. 

As they walked, Firepaw chanced one last look from what little he could see of ShadowClan in the bushes. No one looked particularly happy. Firepaw supposed they were ashamed of themselves.

 _Good,_  he thought. That at least meant they had a chance at redemption.


	39. Epilogue

“Busy night, huh?”

Blackfoot was sitting by himself outside of camp, looking up at the sky. His right foot was bloody and its pad was torn. He had soaked it already with marsh water, which he knew wasn’t wise, but it had soothed the pain a little. Now he had it raised off the ground, but just low enough to give the impression that he was putting his full weight on it. He was completely still - even his breaths were slow and shallow enough to make it look like he was made of stone.

A very small brown tom had stopped by him and was speaking around a rather fat toad. He was awfully perky, Blackfoot thought, considering the events of the night.

“Yes,” he said flatly. “It was.”

There was silence after this that was uncomfortable entirely on the brown tom’s end. He kneaded at the ground, looked to his left, and made a small noise in his throat, like he wanted to speak. Blackfoot waited.

Eventually, the tom dropped the toad and said, “D’you have any orders for the Clan, or-”

“No,” Blackfoot said. “Not the whole Clan. They found Fogcloud?”

“Ye- yes. He’s coming home soon.”

“Meet him and give him that toad.”

“Of course,” said the tom quickly. “Of course, right away. I was planning to do that. Yes, sir.”

The tom hurried away north, towards the Mother. Blackfoot stayed where he was and counted the stars as far as he could count, grouping them into threes and trying to keep track of each group. A few times a cat stopped and asked him a question and he answered bluntly. He eventually noticed Nightpelt returning slowly from the town. A few times the old cat stopped nervously, but Blackfoot just sat where he was and let him approach.

“The loners are home now,” Nightpelt said when he was close enough for Blackfoot to hear him. “We promised them a little prey to make up for tonight. Cinderfur caught one of ThunderClan’s cats across the road and found out Ashfur and Palecloud are staying in the forest.”

“Did you ask for them to return?” Blackfoot said.

“They say they’ll be back by tomorrow,” Nightpelt said. “But Murkpelt- the ro- um- our old seer-”

“You can call her by her name,” Blackfoot said quietly. “She’s not a criminal.”

“Murkpelt.” Nightpelt repeated to himself a few times, as if weighing how it sounded out loud. He exhaled.  _“Murkpelt_ declined when we sent for her. She said she has too much to do in ThunderClan. And-” he nodded at a passing warrior. “From what the warrior told me, she seems to like it there.”

“She could use a Clan that supports her,” Blackfoot said. “Are you ready to retire again?”

“Yes.” Nightpelt’s head hung heavily. “I should have left with them, you know. I can’t work this hard anymore.”

“We’ll do the ceremony tomorrow.”

“That sounds fine to me.”

“Go inside,” Blackfoot said, and he tried to make the order sound kind. “Rest and eat with everyone else.”

“Alright.” Nightpelt stretched, his joints creaking. “Will you go to the Mother tonight?”

“No,” Blackfoot said. “During the day, once everyone’s home, I’ll go.”

Nightpelt blinked slowly, thinking. He started to walk into the bushes, then stopped and looked at Blackfoot. “Where did they take Brokenstar?”

“The road,” Blackfoot said. “Up north, where the buzzards are.”

“Maybe they’ll find some use for him.” Nightpelt’s long tail waved slowly. “We should never have let Raggedstar make him deputy.”

Blackfoot said nothing. Nightpelt went inside and Blackfoot turned his gaze upward again, thinking about nothing at all, watching the dawn brighten the sky and chase the stars away one by one.


End file.
